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haloxsaisha · 2 years ago

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Like To Be You.

Chapter 1: Flicker.

[Charles Leclerc x Singer!OC]

Summary: Charles Leclerc and Advika Hira seemed to have it all- their dream jobs, love and support from millions around the globe and trust worthy friends. What if life gave them a chance to go back to something that had been missing in their lives?

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and death, cringey fluff with a shit ton of cheesiness (because I'm covering the honeymoon phase please forgive me), Google translated French.

Word count: 2.2K words.

A/N: I have no clue how the Prologue is longer than this lmao, do read the prologue incase you missed it though. Nevertheless I hope y'all like the first chapter and do let me know if you want to be added to the tag list <33

Italicized font: flashbacks.

Small Italicized font in brackets: translations.

December 2023.

People bustling down in the streets below, the homely cafés, white and sparkly snow cascading down from sky which had orange, pink and blue scattered over it with the CN tower piercing through the sky. Toronto had always been one of Advika's favourite places in the world, the place always helped her relax and destress.

The sound of the front door shutting breaks her subconscious state and she turns back to look at her Canadian best friend, who was joining her in the balcony with two paper cups in his hand.

"I got us some hot chocolate." Shawn said, handing her one of the cups and she muttered a small thank you. She'd never been used to the snow and chillness since it never snowed at most of India, especially where she lived, which was in the South of the country.

Shawn Mendes had been Advika's first friend from the music industry and was also one of the most important people in her life. She'd been signed to Island Records a year after him and he always guided her through work, since he'd got his big break even before Advika joined and knew how hard it was for a newcomer to settle into the fast moving world of music.

The curly haired duo got along well instantly, their love for acoustic music, Harry Potter, romantic clichés and their struggle with anxiety creating a trusting bond very soon. Many rumours of them dating had come up but it never changed a thing between them or made it awkward. They always had each other's backs on both professional and personal fronts- album releases and tours, award functions and galas, crushes and heartbreaks too.

Which is why as soon as Advika's tour ended, she took refuge at his Toronto condo without hesitation, needing some space from the brain clogging tour stress and her break-up with the green eyed Formula 1 driver.

“How’s the tune coming up?” he asks referring to the hour she spent, trying to make a tune for a song she'd been working on for a while.

“Like shit, it feels like my creative energy has been burnt out” she groans, staring at her guitar as if a miracle would occur and finish the song she was working on.

“You need to give yourself a break Advi, all you keep doing is making songs, releasing them and then touring all over the world non stop ever since you’ve come into the industry." he sighs, giving her a concerned look "You didn’t even stop working during the pandemic while everybody was giving themselves a break because of the lockdown. And for god's sake speak to your team about making your tour a little less congested, it's clearly making your health or your personal life worse. ”

"I couldn't help doing that. Try having to be alone in your home for months without being able to step out because the entire world is shut. It's not at all lonely Mendes." she responds sarcastically.

"You need to lighten the weight in your head, what's going on in there?" he asks as they both sit on the couch and look at the view in front of them.

"You worry too much Shawn, I'm alright" she shakes her head, giving a weak chuckle.

"Don't give me that bullshit, you're very easy to read." he gives her a pointed glare "Not to mention, all you've done ever since you came back is sleep and you still look like a train wreck."

"I'm just tired." she sighs "Both physically and mentally. The tour drained all my energy out and things with Charles really hit the rock bottom. I don't know why, but it hurts so much. Which feels so ridiculous because even though we were dating, it wasn't for too long and it didn't make much progress either because we weren't able to spend much time with each other."

"Your mom wasn't wrong you know, you do get really attached to people very soon." he tells her and she leans her head backwards on the wall, feeling exasperated.

Advika would've felt so much better right now if her parents were around. Her appa (father) wouldn't have been happy about her being in a relationship, because he was rather narrow minded, but nevertheless would've helped her reduce her overthinking whereas her amma (mother) wouldn't have minded the relationship and would've given her some relationship advice too. She cursed fate for messing life up like that, all she had was her parents and the accident took them away six years ago.

Her parents had always been supportive about her passion for music, but convincing her amma to agree for signing to Island Records definitely wasn't easy because she stated that her daughter was too naive and trusted people easily, which could cause a lot of trouble in the entertainment industry. after a lot of convincing from the head of Island Records, promising that they'd make sure they would take care of a fifteen year old Advika, her singing career took off.

Naysha, Ria and Shawn's families did treat her like their own, but nothing replaces the void that the loss of parents leaves in a person.

"Please don't tell me you both never had a heart to heart conversation atleast once." he tells her, looking bewildered.

"Of course we did. We've spoken about how exhausting travelling for our career gets but then it doesn't matter because we're lucky enough to get to do what we're doing. We've also spoken about losing important people and the healing process, he's lost people who were very close to him and I've lost my parents. Yeah, there have been heavy conversations. What I meant was that long distance relationships progress really slow and the both of us wanted more than that." Advika explained, taking a sip of the warm beverage in her hand.

"Do you think wanting to keep the relationship on the private side was a bad idea?" Advika pondered.

"Not at all." he nodded his head "Especially with the way people were taking pictures and videos of the both of you when spend the summer break together this year, it's okay that you wanted to keep it away from the public eye until it became a very stable relationship."

The media and fans adored Charles and Advika. The pair first met at Paris to work on a photoshoot for Giorgio Armani, since both of them were the brand ambassadors and a connection sparked instantly. Advika being a huge Formula 1 fan and Charles being quite fluent in music helped them bonded over both the topics and time flew very quickly in those two days, his charm and her compassion blending together effortlessly.

They had also done a few interviews together and attended fashion weeks hosted by the brand, which brought in a lot of public attention towards them. Everybody could see the spark between them.

Advika shook the thoughts away from her head. There was no point reminiscing about the past anymore, she reminded herself. What was the point of a flickering spark when they couldn't even be around each other?

Shawn was probably right, she really needed to take a break.

August 2022.

"So, what do you think of Monaco?" Charles asked Advika, who had her back leaning against the railing of his Yacht.

"It's such a beautiful place." she tells, a happy glint in her eyes "I'll be honest, I normally don't like places which are sunny but I've actually fallen in love with the places here. And I think the beaches here are definitely making me want to stay here."

"I don't think I've been more grateful for paparazzi not being allowed without a permit here, the people aren't making you uncomfortable no?" he asks, referring to how people around them were constantly taking pictures of them.

"That's alright, it's nothing new. Something that we get to experience all the time we're at a public place." she nods her head in understanding" Plus, Formula 1 is a very loved sport at Monaco, so it's understandable that you get a lot of attention here. They love you."

Always so emphatic and sweet, he thought as her words brought a smile on Charles face.

"You look really pretty today." he tells her, admiring how her dusky skin shined under the Monacan sun.

"Says you." she retorts and he gives her a playful look.

"I know you're modest but you can admit that you look good, it's totally alright." he tells her and she rolls her eyes at him.

"Was your plan to make me blush the entire time because it's actually going really great." she tells him, her cheeks getting redder.

"Your cheeks are more red than my sun burn so yes, I think my plan is going really well." he continued teasing her.

"You really need to apply your sunscreen, love." she tried, knowing that he won't listen because she'd been trying to convince him into applying it.

"It's not a big deal Vika, I'll be fine." he shrugs it off lightly and she glares at him in response.

"Alright, I'll do it but only if you ask me to do it in French." he completes with a small smirk.

"Maybe you could teach me how to."

"Pouvez-vous appliquer un peu de crème solaire, mon amour." he tells it slowly with gaps so that she could slowly repeat it after him. (Can you apply some sunscreen, love)

"Je vais le faire, chérie" he replied, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing a kiss on her forehead, noticing the usual red tint that formed on her cheeks whenever he called her "chérie". (I'll do it, darling.)

"You really know how to charm me with your cheesiness Leclerc." she tells, looking up at him.

"You can't blame me for doing that, I've missed you." he chided light heartedly.

"I missed you too, I wish my team kept a longer break in the middle." she sighed, a small frown making it's way onto her face.

"It's alright, you can do it for the next one." he said, rubbing small circles on her waist to calm her down. He noticed during their video calls that tour stressed her out and drained a lot of energy, although she'd never admit it because she loved meeting her fans and singing for them.

When they started dating, she'd been touring for two months and half a year into their relationship now, she'd been done with only three-fourths of it which Charles found really ridiculous because she had to travel every three days and then sink into lots of practice and with breaks of a week's duration coming up once in three months. He had no idea how she managed all the stress that came with a schedule like that, the last thing he wanted was for her to feel more stressed about the fact that they barely got to meet because of their very active work schedules.

"Shall we have food now, des gamins?" Pascale approached them, smiling and they nodded their heads in agreement. (kids)

"I'll help your mum with arranging everything." she told him, slightly tip toeing to place a peck on his cheek "You still haven't applied your sunscreen."

December 2023.

Charles had been a wreck of mixed emotions and he honestly had no clue about how to sort it out.

He missed Advika. He missed everything about her, even those video calls which he thought he hated. He missed the gleam in her eyes, the way her curls were a tangled mess every morning, the blush that appeared on her cheeks every time he said something cheesy and would call her "chérie", he missed the sound of her laugh which ringed even at the smallest jokes and her voice, god that was the one thing that had him holding on despite the long distance. Her voice and the smile that she always had on, no matter how shitty things were for her.

He got tired of the fact that they couldn't be around each other and instead of figuring out a way to be around each other more or at least wait until her tour ended, he just cut it off.

That was a decision worse than the ones his team made last year.

"Tu vas bien, mon fils?" the sound of his mother's voice breaks his chain of thoughts, bringing him back to the moment. (Are you alright, son?)

"Yeah I'm just thinking, nothing much really." he nodded his head at her.

"Sure, the look on your face is definitely saying it's much." she replies sarcastically "Do you want to talk about it."

"I was just thinking about everything that happened with Advika." he sighed and a look of concern appeared on her face.

"Well, do you feel guilty about breaking up with her on a day which was very important to you?"

Damn, what was it with mothers and being so blunt.

"No maman" he whined at her "I feel guilty for letting her go so soon, elle me manque déjà tellement." (I miss her so much.)

"Then talk to her about it. From what I've noticed about her, she's been the most understanding out of all the girlfriends you've had so far. I'm sure she'll at least listen about what you feel."

"She definitely will Maman" he agreed with her "But if we do decide to get together again it won't work out, especially with the way our schedules are set up."

"I think that's ridiculous. When two people really want to be with each other, no matter what comes in between they'll give their best to make sure they stay together despite all of it."

Charles could only accept those words in silence as a response, flying into deep thoughts again.

•••••

Taglist: @crueloveascities

#charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc series #charles leclerc #like to be you #charles leclerc x singer! reader #charles leclerc x oc #saisha writes #f1 imagine

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johnnycranes · 3 years ago

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More Than Meets The Eye

Summary: Mingling with New York’s wealthiest in one of the biggest annual events of the city, going as Norman Osborn’s wife, yep, what could possibly happen?

Norman Osborn x Original Female Character

Word Count: 7.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Female Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex

Read on AO3

i still can't believe i really went through with this fsahklfa I've been in a Willem Dafoe mood and been working on a long fic for him as Norman Osborn and an OC for a while now. Thank you so much to @scungilliwoman for enabling me and encouraging me in writing this and this ship!!! I appreciate you so much, thank you for listening to me go on about them 😭🥺💞

Kennedy would never admit it, but she loved the chance to dress up all fancy and try five-course meals. She only ever tried two-course meals. A.K.A appetizers followed by steak at buffets.

That counted as two-course, right?

“You went over the list I sent you?” Norman asked, fidgeting in the car seat beside her.

Making sure her inky black hair was secure in its high ponytail, she rolled her eyes before smiling reassuringly at him.

She raised one finger. “The Kents are old money, picking between Oscorp and Stark Industries to invest in.” She raised another finger. “The Greenes recently gave fund handling to their eldest son, who is looking for the next big viral sensation.”

Kennedy dropped her hand, smiling smugly this time. “And those are just the top two families we need to charm. So yes, I went over the list.”

“And?” Norman asked, looking all but impressed.

She worked hard to memorize all the names, too.

Kennedy frowned. “And what?”

It was Norman’s turn to roll his eyes. “The media, Kenny. Jamison and his wife will be there too. He’s a tricky one and I need you to be careful. One wrong word and my face’ll be plastered all over the newsstands tomorrow.”

She didn’t forget the Daily Bugle owner, no. Just that he did rather scare her and she hoped she wouldn’t have to say anything more to him than “Hi, hello, how’s the food?”

She was aware of how far that man could go to get the next big headline, and was afraid to give him even the smallest hint that her being married to the most powerful man in New York was an act.

“I’m sure Ms. Concepcion will be fine, sir.” Charles, Norman’s driver, called out from in front of the Rolls-Royce.

Kennedy smiled,leaning and hoping Charles could see her from the rear view mirror. “Thank you, Charles!”

She saw the driver wink at her from the rearview mirror. Kennedy then looked at Norman smugly.

The Oscorp founder simply sighed. “Well, it’s gonna be a helluva party either way.”

When Norman finally calmed his nerves, he spoke up hesitantly. “How’s Dia?” he asked so softly that Kennedy would’ve missed it if the radio was any louder.

She smiled. “She’s fine. My mother and sister are watching her tonight.” Then she laughed, thinking of how her little girl pouted before Kennedy went downstairs to meet Norman by the car.

“She wanted to go, you know.” Kennedy said, remembering Dia dancing around the living room. “Said she wanted to dress up like a princess too.”

Norman chuckled and Kennedy felt her face warm up. He always did have such an attractive gravelly voice, for a smug know-it-all.

“What did you end up telling her?” he asked, less tense and fidgety now.

Kennedy shrugged as she sank down into the leather seat. “Oh you know, that it’s gonna be a boring adult party with boring music and lots of boring talk about science.”

“Science isn’t boring.”

She almost laughed at how whiny he actually sounded. But he just got out of a bad mood so she refrained from doing so. “That’s what Dia said too. Harry’s been a good influence on her, he might not be as great as you in science but he’s been helping Dia a lot.”

“I would’ve asked him to babysit her but-”

Kennedy waved her hands. “What no, it’s fine! It’s Friday night, Norman. Sacred for high schoolers. Let Harry hang out with his friends.”

“You mean playing video games and eating junk food with his friend Peter?”

“Exactly, sacred.”

Norman opened his mouth to say something but they noticed the car came to a stop, and Kennedy saw the entrance to the hotel through the window.

She felt Norman hold her hand, squeezing reassuringly. “You ready, my sweet wife?”

Kennedy winked at him. “Lead the way, dear husband.”

He surprised her when he then took her hand and kissed it, she caught the gleam from her ‘wedding ring’ and ‘engagement ring’.

“You got this.” He whispered, before the door on her side swung open, the hotel staff greeting her.

She released a shaky breath before stepping out for another night as Mrs. Osborn.

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It still amazed her whenever she entered the world of New York’s extremely wealthy.

It partly made her feel sick knowing what was just outside their little bubble while they ate and drank without care, and the other part of her couldn’t help but enjoy the lavish lifestyle herself.

She had her arm hooked onto Norman’s as they walked around the huge ballroom, mingling and schmoozing with the guests. Most of them were old men and women, clearly enjoying retirement life and looking to spend their riches, while the others were around Norman’s age, CEOs and Presidents of their own companies too, she was sure.

The more people Norman introduced her to, the more confident she started to feel. It wasn’t the first fancy rich people party Norman brought her to, it just so happened to be, in his words, one of the biggest and most important events of the year, please don’t ruin this for me.

Please, like she was the only one who had to keep the act up.

“Ah Norman, finally someone worth holding a conversation with in this dull party.” a voice called out.

“Wilson, be nice.” another said.

Kennedy paused as she and Norman came across another couple in front of them.

Wilson? Bald? That couldn’t be-

“Wilson and Vanessa Fisk, I wasn’t sure you two were going to grace us with your presence tonight.” Norman said, confirming Kennedy’s suspicions.

She let go of Norman so he could shake hands with his fellow corporate mogul.

Wilson smiled, which looked a bit shark-like to Kennedy. “We found time.” he said. “And, I’ve been as curious as the whole of Manhattan about your sudden… elopement. Who is this gorgeous woman you probably don’t deserve, eh?”

Norman put his arm around Kennedy’s waist, holding her close. “Wilson, Vanessa, this is my wife Kennedy. Kennedy, Wilson and Vanessa Fisk.”

Kennedy made sure to smile brightly, extending her hand to greet the Fisks. “It’s my honor to meet one of New York’s most powerful couples.”

Luckily the Fisks took her offered hand, instead of staring her down like she thought would happen. She’d been watching too many dramas on television again, it seemed like.

Vanessa raised an eyebrow before sipping on her champagne. “Kennedy? That’s an odd name, dear.” There didn’t seem to be malice in her comment, just… curiosity, which Kennedy was thankful for.

“My parents.” Kennedy explained. “My mother wanted Kendra, my father wanted Andy. And ta-da, compromise.”

“Well, it makes for an interesting conversation starter after introducing yourself.” Wilson noted.

And in the back of her mind, Kennedy was freaking out knowing that she was holding a casual discussion about her name of all things, with New York’s second wealthiest - Yes, Norman made it clear that he was the first - man and his wife.

“What is it that you do, Kennedy?” Vanessa asked.

And there it was.

It wasn’t that Kennedy was ashamed of her work, no, quite the opposite. She loved it, she was proud of it. But it might not be what people like oil tycoons, tech giants and big property owners would expect to hear from the ‘wife’ of Norman Osborn.

From the start of their little arrangement, Kennedy made it clear that she’d be ok pretending to be his wife and Dia even thought it fun to play his stepdaughter, but everything else about her, she wouldn’t lie about it.

She felt Norman hold her a bit tighter, not to hurt her, but more to reassure her, like he was encouraging her to speak her mind.

And so, in front of the Fisks, she did.

“I’m a teacher at a daycare.” Kennedy said, smiling proudly.

And in her peripheral vision, she saw Norman smile as well.

To the credit of the Fisks, only Wilson seemed to blink a few times like someone just told him people actually took other modes of transportation aside from private jets and sports cars.

Vanessa on the other hand grinned, even seemed in awe.

“Oh I love children! It must be a treat to be with the little ones almost every day!” she gushed.

Kennedy let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “It is. They’re all so bright and talented. And of course I know you’re an Art Curator, Ms. Fisk?”

Vanessa waved her hand. “Oh please, dear, call me Vanessa. The only ones who call me Ms. Fisk are the bodyguards my husband insists I bring along.”

Wilson’s ‘it’s for your own protection!’ got drowned out by Vanessa continuing, “And yes, I am. Not as glamorous as it seems. A lot of times I see men trying to impress their dates into thinking they know what they’re talking about. And speaking of,”

The brunette turned to her husband. “That’s also how I met Wilson here. He was in my gallery almost every week.”

And Kennedy didn’t even think it was possible for the Wilson Fisk to look so… warm? Vulnerable? as he looked at his wife.

“Almost every day. But hey, I finally got the guts to ask you out on a date, didn't I?”

“And here we are now.” Vanessa said.

Kennedy could see the love between the two, and was happy for them. She glanced at Norman, her own heart sinking.

She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment she started to fall for Norman, when she no longer needed to pretend to want to hold him close, to kiss him, to laugh at his jokes.

She blushed remembering how flustered she was earlier that night, putting on her low-cut red gown and wondering if Norman would appreciate it.

She genuinely liked him and she wanted to be with him, for real, not for show.

She just wasn’t sure if the man felt the same.

Suddenly Vanessa shook her head, like she snapped out of whatever trance she was in with her husband.

She smiled at Kennedy. “And how did you two meet?”

Kennedy’s smile dropped.

Oh shit, they never actually established how. Surprisingly, no one ever asked yet, all too caught up with the fact that Norman was married, and not with how he met her. Either that or the two never stuck around long enough to answer the latter question.

“Oh I can assure you it’s nothing compared to the start of your love story.” Norman said smoothly.

Vanessa scoffed. “Love stories are not to be compared, Norman. Each one is special.”

Ok, Kennedy loved this woman more and more.

But as much as she agreed with Vanessa’s sentiment, she didn’t have said love story prepared.

Norman chuckled beside her. She wasn’t sure if he was nervous, stressed, or both. “Well, would you like to tell the story, dear or should I?” he asked, looking at her.

Kennedy opened her mouth and stumbled on her words. “I, uhm, you always tell it better.” is all she managed to say.

And Norman’s eyes widened for just a bit before he went back to smiling at the Fisks. Good, if they were going to get into trouble for their lie coming out, at least it’d be Norman’s fault and not hers.

“Well,” Norman started. “We met at a party similar to this one. Her father was to receive an award from my company.”

Kennedy stopped herself from reacting. That wasn’t actually a lie, that was in fact how they met. Her father of course invited the entire family to the event and she was so excited.

But where was Norman going with this?

“I was up on stage giving my speech when I saw her in the crowd, wearing a beautiful pink gown, looking like a glowing goddess in a sea full of black suits and dresses.”

Kennedy’s heart jumped.

He remembered what she wore?

“Finally we were introduced to one another and I swear to God my palms were sweating like I was back presenting my thesis in university!”

Kennedy laughed at that. “Yeah ok, they were kinda sweaty.” She even needed to wipe her hand on her dress after, but she wouldn’t say that in front of the Fisks.

“And?” Vanessa interrupted. “How did you finally ask her out?”

Then Norman looked at Kennedy with such… she didn’t even want to say the words soft and Norman together but there you go. “Her little girl Lydia decided to go running around the hotel. And, call it fate, call it a sign from the universe or whatever else, but Dia ended up bumping into me and I helped her find her mother.”

Norman leaned in close to Kennedy, turning his head to face her. “I’ll never forget that first smile you gave me when I brought Dia back. I just knew I wanted to keep seeing it.”

She remembered too, how relieved she felt the instant she saw Dia running towards her, laughing and talking about how the place was as huge as a castle, with Norman trailing behind her.

In the back of her mind, she knew a place surrounded by Oscorp security and military personnel could somehow be considered safe for a child to roam around unsupervised, but with all the creeps in New York, she didn’t want to take any chances, or what if Dia lost her footing and fell somewhere.

She thanked Norman profusely for taking care of her daughter, and she blushed hearing his gravelly voice so close.

And in the present, Norman talking about her smiling at him, it made her blush even more, knowing that night had more of an impact on him than she thought.

Kennedy smiled softly, “And how was I supposed to refuse a date with the man who brought my daughter back?”

Of course what really happened was someone from the Daily Bugle saw all three of them together, assumed the Oscorp CEO had found a new woman in his life, along with a new child, and well…

Here they were now.

“I’m sure ninety percent of you saying yes was because of my charm.” Norman said smugly, smirking.

Kennedy shook her head in a so-so motion. “Eh, fifty-fifty.”

Her ‘husband’ laughed and Kennedy found herself doing the same, a chill running down her spine from having him so close, his breath ghosting her face and his arm around her.

Her dark brown eyes were drawn to his lips and it must’ve been the champagne making her imagine that Norman’s own blue eyes did the same to her-

“That’s so romantic!” Vanessa’s voice shook them out of… whatever that was. Norman pulled away but kept his arm around her, and Kennedy was grateful for it, afraid she might’ve stumbled too far back without it.

“We’re both lucky men, Osborn.” Wilson added. We-”

“Attention, ladies and gentlemen.” A voice suddenly boomed, echoing throughout the huge room. They turned to the stage and saw a young man in a suit, smiling wide. “If you will please find your seats, the first course of dinner will be served shortly. Thank you and enjoy the evening.”

Wilson finished his glass of champagne. “We’ll go ahead and see if our tablemates are as interesting as you two are…. But I doubt it.” He nodded at Kennedy. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Kennedy.”

Vanessa took it a step further by bringing Kennedy in for a hug, making sure not to hit the younger woman with her glass. “You’re a delightful girl, dear. You two seem very happy.” she said as she pulled away.

Kennedy simply smiled, in shock from receiving a hug from Vanessa Wilk herself. “It was nice meeting you two as well.”

Vanessa looked from her to Norman. “If anything happens to this girl, I’m holding you entirely responsible, Norman.” her tone was playful but Kennedy could tell there was a threat underneath.

“Enjoy the rest of the night, Vanessa. Make sure your husband doesn’t get into any trouble.” Norman said, to which Wilson just mockingly scoffed at before he and his wife finally took their leave.

As soon as they were gone, Kennedy thought back to how Norman told the story of how they met. How… enamored he seemed to be with her that day.

That is… if what he said was even true, or if he was just putting on a show. She didn’t want to assume anything, only for him to laugh at her for even thinking he could ever actually fall for her.

“You ok?” Norman’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She realized they were already standing so close to one another.

But suddenly she couldn’t get close enough.

Maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was seeing the Fisks so happy together, but steeling her nerves, she said, “That story earlier, about how we met. It sounded a lot like you like me.”

She felt Norman’s grip on her tighten for just a bit. He looked at her with a serious expression, yet he also looked… conflicted.

She held her breath, waiting for him to say something, the entire ballroom was filled with sounds of laughter and music, but to Kennedy, it all seemed so silent.

Then his expression changed, and the smirk she’d come to see so many times was back on his face.

He finally spoke, “I’m just a good actor.”

And she was sure at that moment, she could physically feel what a heartbreak was like.

She wanted to disappear. She wanted to say she was sick, go home early, anything to just get away.

She knew, obviously, that there was a chance Norman wouldn’t like her back, but she didn’t think it would hurt this fucking much.

She balled her hands into fists, forcing herself to calm down. A voice told her she should at least try to get through the rest of the night.

Partly because she didn’t want to go home and have her daughter see her crying her eyes out.

So she made the decision to pretend that she didn’t just get her heart broken and she wasn’t completely numb.

Hey if Norman could act, then so could she, right?

Her brain was on auto-pilot as she and Norman found their table, seated beside other Oscorp executives. She at least remembered to smile and greet them when it was appropriate.

The rest of the dinner went fairly well. Kennedy mostly talked to the other people at the table, if she wasn’t listening to the host make jokes, or paying attention - or at least look like she was - when someone gave a speech.

Of course Norman spoke to her as well, asking her if the food was good, if she was feeling cold and even offered his jacket to her when she felt chilly.

It was actually very sweet of him and she would’ve said so out loud if she weren’t still so hurt by his comment earlier.

Thankfully all the meals were so delicious that they were enough to keep her distracted and in a good enough mood as the evening went by.

Until the host invited everyone to hit the dance floor as the band slowed their music down.

Really? Dancing? Wasn’t it supposed to be bedtime for most of the guests already?

Most of their tablemates stood up, smiling and heading to the dance floor. Kennedy found herself staring at the bottom of her empty champagne glass. Perhaps it was time for a refill.

She could walk to the bar and-

“Kenny.” Norman’s voice, for the umpteenth time that night, startled her.

“Hm?” she said lamely, but at least she was able to look at him instead of turning away.

He placed a hand on top of hers gently, and she was pretty sure his hand was clammy. “Would you care to dance?”

Kennedy glanced at the dance floor, where couples, even Wilson and Vanessa, were all dancing slowly to a cover of a song she can vaguely remember. It sounded so romantic.

She looked back at Norman, and she knew what he looked like when he was nervous and that was it, but there was something so… vulnerable as well.

If this was him still acting then give the man an Academy Award already.

Kennedy of course still didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his peers, and wanted to make sure they left a good impression.

So she nodded and said, “Sure.”

Norman seemed to release a breath in relief and his mouth twitched into a half smile before he stood up, offering his hand to Kennedy as she stood up as well, following his lead walking towards the dance floor.

As more heads turned to see the two of them find their spot, she was grateful Norman at least didn’t bring them all the way to the middle of the crowd.

She heard him take a deep breath before slowly raising their still intertwined hands, while his other one went to hold her by the waist. Kennedy gently placed her other hand on his shoulder.

And so they began to dance.

Kennedy could tell this wasn’t Norman’s first time dancing, from the way they glided across the dancefloor with ease, his gaze never leaving hers.

His blue eyes were piercing and she couldn’t look away.

“What happened?” Norman whispered suddenly as they swayed together.

“Hm?” Kennedy asked, blinking up at him.

“That. You’ve been distant since we started dinner.”

And that was when Kennedy turned her head away, not sure she even wanted to tell him that he was the reason for her sudden mood change. She shrugged. “I don’t know, too much food, too much champagne?”

Norman let go of the hand holding hers and moved it to touch her cheek, making her face him. Kennedy’s breath hitched.

Then she saw him actually smirk. “I said something stupid, didn’t I?”

That almost made her laugh. He was self-aware, she had to give him that. Somehow he could always tell when something was off about her.

That or she should really work on her poker face.

She smiled coyly. “Maybe.”

“Ok, what was it?

Suddenly Kennedy’s smile dropped and she wanted to curl into a ball and roll all the way back to her apartment.

She just had to tease him.

One of her hands now free, she waved it in a ‘doesn’t matter’ movement. “It’s nothing now, the food more than made up for it.”

“If that were true, I would’ve seen you smile a bit more. A real smile.”

She stayed quiet.

“Kenny,” he tried again, his voice low. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

And she didn’t know if it was the champagne, the gorgeous music playing in the background, his dazzling blue eyes, his hand still on her cheek, or all of those combined, but she bit her lip, let out a deep breath and spoke.

“Was it really just acting?” she asked softly.

Her heart started beating quickly as she waited for his reaction, she was sure her knees were shaking and she might’ve stumbled if she wasn’t holding on to him.

Thankfully she didn’t have to repeat herself, as Norman’s eyes widened and he seemed to register what she was referring to.

“...did you want it to be?” he asked.

No.

“I don’t know.” she said instead.

By that point they weren’t even swaying to the music anymore, just standing on the dance floor surrounded by other couples, completely focused on themselves.

Norman caressed her cheek gently before leaning in closer, gaze staying on Kennedy. “I’m a great scientist, and a terrible actor.”

Kennedy’s eyes widened.

Did he mean-

“Ah. Norman.” Another voice chimed in before Kennedy could say anything. They both turned to see the elderly couple, Nicholas and Ellaine Kent.

Kennedy met them earlier that night already. They reminded her of really sweet and nice grandparents that gifted you cookies when you visited them.

If those grandparents also wanted to invest in projects that more or less involved potential weapons of mass destruction.

But gifting cookies, still yes.

“I’m glad I ran into you, actually.” Nicholas said, and Kennedy noticed how people started moving away from them, the Kents were one of the most prestigious people in the whole party after all. And no one wanted to say the wrong thing or get in their way.

“Mr. Kent!” Norman said in a rather shaky voice, Kennedy almost laughed. Good to know she wasn’t the only one a bit rattled from their interrupted conversation earlier. “How may we help you?”

Nicholas waved him off. “My wife and I were just about to leave, and I wanted to tell you something before I forget it. You know how my memory is nowadays.”

Nicholas chuckled and Kennedy grinned seeing Norman trying so hard to make sure his smile wasn’t forced and his eyes didn’t scream ‘get on with it.’

If the Kents noticed it, they didn’t say anything.

Nicholas continued, “It was so nice catching up with you and to finally meet your wonderful wife.” He flashed a warm smile towards Kennedy, which she returned, before he faced Norman once more.

“I was reminded of the etiquette and culture of the people of Oscorp, much more refined than that Stark boy.”

Norman paused, blinking in surprise, nervousness and impatience gone. “Mr. Kent?”

The older gentleman smirked before it turned into that all-knowing grandfatherly-like smile. “You have our support. My people will be reaching out to you in the morning. And perhaps we could discuss more about your projects over lunch. Ellaine and I would love to have you two over one of these days.”

Norman opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, before regaining his composure. “O-of course, sir! Thank you and I’m looking forward to it.”

“You two have a good night, then.” Nicholas said. He looked at Kennedy. “Mrs. Osborn.”

Kennedy nodded. “Good night and get home safely, Mr. and Mrs. Kent.”

Ellaine, who had been quiet the whole time her husband was talking, went over to Kennedy and held the young woman’s hands in her own. “It was lovely meeting you, my dear. Norman is lucky to have you.”

Kennedy opened her mouth to reply but Norman cut her off by saying “I am.”

She knew she was blushing again, the line between playing pretend and reality seemed to blur.

“...a terrible actor.”

It made her wonder how many times just that night had he said something romantic and meant it?

Ellaine let go of Kennedy’s hands, nodded and bid a good night to the couple before following after her husband, and soon, they were lost in the crowd of gowns and suits.

Norman huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “That just happened.” he said.

Kennedy grinned, “It did.”

Norman looked like a kid who just met Santa, his eyes twinkling and his smile so wide.

She was happy for him, Harry told her recently that his father never said it, but Oscorp really needed more funding, especially with so many new tech companies popping up.

So this was a huge win.

The band’s music changed into something livelier and Kennedy suddenly remembered their unfinished conversation before the Kents interrupted them.

And by the look on Norman’s face, he seemed to remember it too.

He stared at her, his blue eyes seemed so focused on her now, like they were trying to figure something out.

He opened his mouth, but it took a while before he could find the words to say.

“Thank you.” he finally said, softly. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

A part of her was annoyed at how that was all he had to say, after his pretty big confession just moments ago. She found herself hoping he was going to bring that back up.

Finish what you started.

But she understood that with the Kents declaring their support, he’d probably be busy the rest of the night and the entire week, organizing his staff to get their projects together and working overtime… again.

It wouldn’t be the first time he suddenly had to disappear because of work. Once she didn’t hear from him for almost two weeks and no, she was not worried. Dia was just looking forward to seeing him and Harry again.

Yet the moment he showed up on your doorstep you looked so relieved and wanted to hug him, hell, make out with him even. Kennedy remembered her sister Fran saying.

She might’ve felt a little relieved that he was fine, and found it just a bit cute when he smiled apologetically and said he was busy dealing with the aftermath of Quest Aerospace’s new product launch.

Goddamnit just how long had she actually been crushing over Norman Osborn?

Internal debate aside, Kennedy settled for smiling smugly at her ‘husband’. “I know. You’re lucky I chose you over Tony Stark.”

That got him to chuckle. “Like he could handle you.”

“And you can?” She shut her mouth as soon as she said it. That was dangerously close to flirti- no, it was flirting.

She thought he’d get uncomfortable or dodge her comment completely.

So she was surprised when he leaned in, took her hand and brought it close to his face. “You tell me.” he whispered, before kissing her hand delicately and leading her back into the dance.

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

With the deal with the Kents all but formally secured, and a few more meetings planned with other investors, Norman decided it was time to head home.

It was late and Dia would’ve already been asleep, Kennedy could talk to her daughter in the morning.

The drive was relatively quiet, with Norman occasionally on the phone fixing up his schedule for the next day, most likely working out which projects to prioritize showing to their potential investors.

Kennedy usually enjoyed silent rides home, especially after a long day. But this one, it seemed like they were both just avoiding the elephant in the room, both refusing to be the first to address their interrupted conversation earlier.

Hell even Charles knew it was awkward and felt the need to turn the radio on loud enough for at least him to hear up front.

Kennedy almost asked him to turn the volume up but a silly part of her thought that if she did that, it might discourage Norman from talking at all, make him think that she didn’t want to continue their discussion.

If there was anything left to discuss.

The car stopped right outside her apartment’s building. Norman was still on his phone so Kennedy thanked Charles and bid him a good night. She saw the driver nod back at her through the rearview mirror.

So they were really just gonna ignore what happened?

Kennedy knew how hyper focused Norman could be with work, so even if she did find it rude that he wouldn’t even properly say goodbye to her, she didn’t push him. Instead she squeezed his arm - the one not holding his phone - and smiled at him before moving to open the car door.

She did it quickly that she missed how his eyes widened, like he just noticed she was about to leave.

Hopefully they could talk about it some other time.

Kennedy got out of the car and only made it halfway to the entrance before she heard another car door open, followed by footsteps behind her.

“Kenny, wait.” she heard his gravelly voice behind her.

She was still deciding whether to tease him about finally putting his phone away or tease him about him being a terrible actor, but she wasn’t even able to get the words out for as soon as she turned around, his lips immediately pressed against hers, his hands on either side of her face.

It took her only a second before she relaxed into the kiss and wrapped her arms around him. This seemed to encourage Norman as she felt his breath hitch before his tongue sought entrance to her mouth.

She immediately obliged.

They’ve kissed before of course, quick pecks to keep up appearances. But this, this was completely different. It wasn’t pretend.

And it felt so damn good.

She actually moaned and Norman, the smug bastard that he was, decided to pull away and smirked when Kennedy almost chased after his lips.

“You okay, darling?” he asked teasingly, but his voice was hoarse. And before Kennedy could reply, he placed a few more kisses along her jaw, then moved down to her neck, almost sucking on her skin.

“I’m great. I’m a glowing goddess, as someone once told me.” she said shakily and she felt Norman’s chuckle vibrate through her.

Norman leaned away just enough to face her again. She blushed seeing his own lips smeared with her lipstick.

“That someone wasn’t lying.” he said, before sighing contentedly. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

Then why did you stop?

She so badly wanted to tell him that. That kiss was something else and fuck, she really wanted more. She was feeling lightheaded and warm despite how chilly it was out in the streets of New York City.

Her body was on fire and that was just from one makeout session!

Norman leaned in close once more, his lips beside her ear and she felt his breath touch her skin, sending shivers down her spine. “Talk to me, Kenny. You look absolutely flushed.”

And that was it.

Hoping her voice would be steady enough, Kennedy said, “Get us to a room.”

Norman actually groaned and she took comfort in knowing she wasn’t the only one feeling… excited. But they really should get to somewhere more private before they give Jamison a headline-worthy scandal for his next paper.

Norman growled out a “My place. Harry’s at Peter’s.” before grabbing her hand and leading her back to the car, she actually giggled as she followed him in.

Charles, bless his heart, didn’t comment, just smiled softly before asking Norman if it was time to head home, to which Norman said yes, still holding onto Kennedy’s hand.

Thankfully they both silently agreed that they weren’t going to do anything in front of the driver, but Kennedy swore if the traffic on the way back to Norman’s penthouse was bad, she might not survive that long.

And judging by Norman’s grip on her and how he tried to calm his breathing, neither would he.

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

Thankfully the drive really didn’t last too long and as soon as the huge Manhattan building came into view, Norman didn’t even wait for the bellboy to open the door for him, he was already out, Kennedy not far behind him.

He remembered to call out a ‘thank you and good night’ to Charles at least, who then bid them both a good night once more.

It was like they were on auto pilot, speed walking in the lobby, making sure to nod at the guards and concierge who greeted them. She would’ve laughed at how jittery they both were if she weren’t so focused on getting to the damn elevator that would lead them straight to Norman’s floor.

And as soon as they were in the elevator and the doors closed behind them, Norman was on her, pushing her to the wall and crashing his lips onto hers.

“Don’t know if I can wait any longer.” Norman said as he peppered kisses on her neck.

Kennedy had to will herself not to wrap her legs around him. They were so close to his place, seconds away.

“You did pretty well on the drive over.” she teased.

He brought one hand close to her breasts, teasing her and just barely slipping his hand underneath her low-cut dress to touch her skin.

Kennedy groaned.

“Don’t know if I can say the same for you now.” he said lowly.

The elevator finally pinged open and they tumbled into his penthouse, which to Kennedy still looked like a huge mansion.

They stumbled up the stairs and Kennedy was about ready to remove her heels.

Finally in the privacy of his room, Norman wasted no time to remove his coat and tie while Kennedy undid her ponytail and removed her earrings. Next to go were her heels, and she was so glad to finally rest her feet.

She looked back at Norman and saw that he was stripped down to just his pants now, shoes gone as well, thrown somewhere around the room along with the rest of their discarded clothes and accessories.

She couldn’t help but blush seeing his lithe yet strong upper body. For a work-obsessed scientist in his mid-40s, he sure did stay in shape.

As much as she wanted to admire his physique even more, he was already closing the distance between them and kissing her. He undid the straps of her gown first and she hurriedly got out of it, letting it pool on the floor.

She didn’t wear a bra underneath her dress, and now left only in her panties, Norman gazed at her like she was a piece of art.

“You really are a goddess.” he whispered before bringing his face down to kiss her breasts.

She moaned when Norman took one nipple in his mouth and pinched the other. She could already feel the pleasure and so badly wanted to touch him, so she reached for his pants.

But he held her wrist away and chuckled before lifting her up and bringing her to the bed. She watched as Norman removed his belt and finally pulled his pants and underwear down, now bare to her.

And fuck, he was a sight. She already knew he wasn’t the typical cushy executive, and seeing his body now confirmed it. He was lanky but still quite muscular, and he wasn’t soft either.

She could see a few scars here and there. From experiments maybe?

“You’re making me blush here, Kenny.” he said, and Kennedy knew he meant it to be teasing, but she could tell there was a bit of self-consciousness as well.

He absolutely had nothing to be concerned about.

“You’re gorgeous.” she said breathlessly, seriously.

She noticed his body relax and his gaze softening before he joined her on the bed. He was on top of her and kissing her once more.

This time his kisses were slower, lingering longer, savoring. Kennedy pulled him closer, running her fingers through his hair. She couldn’t get enough of him, breathing in his scent, his favorite cologne, mixed with the champagne they had earlier and something that was just Norman.

He made his way down her body, trailing kisses as he went. Until finally, he was kissing close to her core, and, after lightly squeezing her hips, oh-so-slowly removed her panties.

She practically kicked them off by the time they reached her knees, Norman chuckling at her impatience.

“What’s the rush?” he asked smugly from between her legs, lifting them over his shoulders.

And fuck she didn’t trust herself to say something snarky back. All she managed was a shaky “Norman, please.”

And finally she felt his tongue on her, licking at her folds. She bucked her hips and her hands grabbed the sheets tightly, needing to cling onto something.

She looked up at the ceiling as she writhed, but Norman squeezed her hips, forcing her to meet his intense blue eyes, watching her as he devoured her.

Then he buried his face in her, sucking at her clit, Kennedy making weak sounds as she grabbed a handful of his hair.

She was practically sobbing when Norman decided to slip two fingers inside her, pumping roughly as he continued to suck on her. The pleasure was becoming too much for her, her body heating up. She lifted her hips closer to him and he started moving his fingers in and out quicker.

He kept his eyes on her as she started trembling. Kennedy cried out his name weakly as she came. She whimpered as he continued to lick at her, his fingers now back on her thighs.

She pulled on his hair again and he looked up at her mischievously, kissing her core before moving his body back up so he could press his lips to hers once more.

She could taste herself on him and she mewled, her body still reeling from her orgasm.

Then she felt his erect cock touch her entrance and they both groaned at the contact.

Norman looked at her, seeking permission and Kennedy smiled softly and nodded, not trusting herself to say anything coherent.

Norman lined himself up at her entrance and she gasped as he pushed deep into her, keeping his pace slow.

She pulled his face closer to her, kissing his mouth and jaw. Norman grunted as he thrusted into her. Kennedy moaned, his gravelly voice turning her on even more.

And, as if he could read her mind, he spoke, “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Kennedy bucked her hips up. Hearing Norman Osborn’s dirty talk was enough to send her over the edge again.

“Norma- agh- faster, please. Go faster.” she was surprised to finally be able to finish a sentence in her state, absolutely high from the pleasure.

Norman obliged, thrusting quicker.

He nipped her ear before leaving kisses on her neck, sucking at her skin. And fuck, she almost wanted him to leave a mark.

He brought his face back up to press his lips to hers, their teeth clacking against each other as they kissed.

Norman pounded into her harder and Kennedy moaned, not caring how loud she was being.

“Norman, I’m so- I’m so close.” she whimpered weakly.

“Don’t hold back. Scream for me.” he said, his blue eyes on her.

And it was too much for Kennedy.

She cried out his name, arching her back and trembling as her second orgasm hit her, Norman planting soft kisses on her jaw.

She’s whimpering as Norman’s thrusts become quicker and more erratic, and with one final deep push, he came with a low groan, his seed spilling inside her.

Norman touched his forehead to hers, before kissing her deeply.

He looked at her with such warmth and tenderness that made Kennedy’s heart soar.

He stood up to grab fresh towels from his closet and they cleaned up as best as they could.

Norman lay on one side of the bed, kissing Kennedy’s shoulder.

She grabbed the blanket to drape it over them then moved to cuddle up with him, resting her head on his chest. He placed an arm around her, holding her close.

Norman was the first to break the silence. “Safe to say we’ll be having breakfast together tomorrow?” he asked cheekily.

Kennedy smiled up at him. “You mean you were planning on leaving the bed so soon?”

That got him to laugh. “As wonderful as that sounds, I have to go to the office tomorrow and formally confirm the Kents’ investment.”

“Well, I do want to check on Dia as well.” She can just imagine how smug her sister would be. Fran basically shoved Kennedy out the door and told her not to rush, that Dia would be perfectly fine for the rest of the weekend.

“Dinner after?” Norman asked, his voice hopeful.

And Kennedy lifted her head to give him a quick peck on the lips. “It’s a date.”

He grinned at her. “An official one this time.”

No more pretending, is what he meant.

And she fell asleep, excited for this new reality of their relationship.

#norman osborn x female oc #spiderman 2002 #norman osborn #oc: kennedy concepcion #my fic #my writing #ahhhhh i cant believe i wrote smut again!!! sdkfhakf #still working on skosc dontcha worry!

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ottos-funny-bunny · 3 years ago

Text

Infect me with your loving

Chapter 8

Warnings: Violence, language, eventual smut, mentions of depression

Summary: Ongoing fic between an OC and Doc Ock

Fandom: Spider-Man, Marvel, Raimi-verse

Authors Note: Hello hi yes, we’re going to slowly start spinning this back around. I’m sorry for being absent. We really did have a not gucci week this week. But I’m going to try to take my angst and turn it into art. Please enjoy! Thank you again for all your support, and remember playlist is pinned to the top of my page!

Now that I’m free to be myself, who am I? — Mary Oliver

It had been months. At least four. Dylesia had lost count. The silence was deafening. The encapsulating loneliness had slinked around her like the cold metal tentacles once had. Her birthday had passed by in an unexciting blur of color and sound, and so had the holidays. Faking happiness, Dylesia found, she had quite a knack for. Smiles plastered over a face so rigid with grief that if she laughed too hard at someone’s shitty joke, she was afraid she would crack and break at the seams. There came a point, where feeling anything at all felt like a great Olympic event that she was entirely too unfit for. There was not much out there for her to care about. Otto had trapped her in his claws and chewed her up and spit her back out for the world to see, pieces of her lingered in every corner like the pieces of his machine. A piece on 5th Avenue, one on Central Park, one near the industrial park, where the man himself had gone into a hibernation at. Otto had been watching her, he wanted so badly to wrap his arms around her again, to kiss her until he took away her breath, to hear her say his name again. Otto left a scar on her that could be seen visibly in the way she talked and walked, and it would take some time to make it up to her. In all those months of close examination, Otto had drawn up a plan, a sort of pros and cons list of her being in his life and the joy she brought. He knew exactly what he needed to do to let her know he was there, to let her know he was sorry, to let her know that despite the risk, he found it extremely difficult to live without her.

Dylesia wanted to be angry, she wanted to scream and yell and punch the sky. She sat with her anger so much, until she realized that it wasn’t anger at all, her name was grief. And she was baring her ugly teeth in Dylesia’s face without asking for mercy. Dylesia laid in the green plush of her bed, starring up at the skylight in her room, Lazarus purring contentedly by her side. Thin fingers brushed through the black fur, and twisting his tail playfully in her fingers, earning a soft brr and a soft bat of a paw. It was much easier to survive, when you lived for someone else. The wind from her open window bellowed her curtains, allowing in the fresh open air of New York. Grief, wasn’t just about loosing a loved one. Grief was loosing someone she once was, the life she could have had and shared. The life she did have, if only temporarily. Dylesia mourned herself, more than she mourned Octavius’s absence. Absence was a familiar friend, that held out its arms in a cold yet loving embrace. Loneliness at its core was comfort. Dylesia over the course of the months that had passed, was slowly starting to heal. If not totally, but she found that if she didn’t start to fix herself, and heal herself, she was going to bleed on people who didn’t do the hurting to begin with. She needed to turn her anger into art, her grief into music, her healing into hunger for life again. The soft song of the morning dove echoed in the wind of the hustle and bustle, awakening her from her mind maze.

Dylesia slowly stood from her tomb, giving Lazarus one last pat on the head before forcing herself into her routine. Irregardless of the pain, she would overcome. Bare feet padded to the balcony where she’d spend many a night hoping she would see Otto again. She saw him in the news, on articles that would flash bright along her phone, but never there. He was a ghost, that retreated when Dylesia would reach out to touch. A silent haunting. She grabbed her book from off of her table, Red Comet, and proceeded to sit out in the early morning sun, the dew still present on the windowpanes. Dylesia released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, enjoying this quiet meditative moment, the sun touching her face, gentler than any lover ever had. Opening the book, and setting the bookmark next to her, Dylesia finally took time for herself. It was 6 a.m., it was still early enough that many in the city had yet to awaken, and in this moment all was still. In the past weeks if not at least a solid month, Dylesia found she had very little time to herself. Nelly was adamant on trying to get Dylesia back out in the world, and find someone to mesh with her and share a life with her the way Bill had with Nelly. But Otto was the only one on the forefront of Dylesias mind she pictured herself with. Otto met her on an intellectual level, and although he was science and she was arts, he listened to her and respected her opinions. The men that Nelly had been pairing with Dylesia only had interest in their accomplishments and what they had to offer, which was less than savory in Dylesias book. The whole scenarios were reminiscent of the movie ‘Because I Told You So’ with Diane Keaton, except Dylesia wasn’t stuck between two tragic love interests, just one who she couldn’t quite find.

A buzz of a phone reminded her of her surroundings, sighing as she saw the time. Already 7:45, and her book was just starting to become good. Nelly had set her up on a date with some man she found suitable. His name was James, and he was an insufferable finance director of some large firm, with a superiority complex like none other. He insisted on taking her out for coffee, after the boring night of dinner where Dylesia sat and listened to the droll voice of the stranger whom of which already acted like he knew everything about her, which was annoying in and of itself. He didn’t know her, because he never bothered to ask. Dys stood and made her way to her bathroom, settling on a pair of leggings, a white loose yet flattering tank top and a larger sage green cardigan, and her necklace with a small diamond that her grandmother had given her long before she passed away, before making her way out the door and to her metaphorical demise.

Otto, had made everything perfect. He remembered her saying she loved peonies, and he had spent all morning hunting down white ones that would go with her home. She enjoyed things that matched her home, that went with her environment. He remembered the face she made when he commented on his previous office, with the lemon yellow walls and blue tile, and dark wood with little to no light and watched her face grimace like she had suddenly smelled something very bad. He didn’t expect her to accept him, he just wanted to give her a token, hoping she would at the very least invite him in for coffee again. He had bought her a small selection of teas too, remembering her expansive collection, as well as a poetry book by Keats, with an inscription by Otto himself in the front. ‘For your intellectual journey.’ wrote in his signature messy script with ‘Your Otto’ below. He had a lot to be sorry for, he had a lot to explain. It took him all the courage and encouragement he could muster to even go near her home. Parker had told Otto that she had been seen with other men, but Otto couldn’t hold it against her. He tried to move on, but the love he felt for her was unmatched, it was a love he hadn’t felt since before Rosie had died. The way she had completely enamored him and had taken up much of his life in mere moments was frightening to Otto, the unnerving feeling of being love struck. Otto straightened up his sweater, and brushed thick fingers through messy copper hair. Here goes nothing.

A non traditionalist, Otto stepped delicately on her balcony, actuators twisting and curling around the rod iron that he had spent plenty of time on. Human hands reached for the glass, gently prying it open to see if his bird was near. The door, was unsurprisingly, unlocked. She never did strike him as someone who listened to others very well. Quite the contrary, the independence she harbored was inspiring. “Dylesia?” The gravel-y voice called out, searching for signs of life. But to his dismay, none. A familiar head but touched his leg, before his dark gaze turned down to Dylesia’s fiercest ally. “Hello there, Lazarus. Where has your mother gone to?” Otto asked the cat, as if he would answer. He reached down and gently rubbed circles on the black ears of the feline, being rewarded with purrs reminiscent of a car engine. A chuckle left his lips, before gazing in her home once more. An actuator gently nudged the feline back into his kingdom, before sliding the door shut behind him. For a fleeting moment, Otto thought of leaving the flowers on the balcony and running in the opposite direction. No. This was something that was necessary, and Otto Octavius would be a coward no more. And so his search began.

“And so I told Jennifer that she should stick to her day job!” Before he was even finished, the haughty man across from her was already laughing at his own joke. This was annoying. Dylesia feigned innocence and forced a small chuckle to leave her lips, throughly unamused. So far all she had a total of five words in edgewise, James, was too busy talking about himself. He wouldn’t even allow her to speak for herself, instead ordering for Dylesia. Which was not as impressive as the man thought it was. Johnathan the loyal barista could see the pain painted across Dylesia’s features. Who the actual fuck drinks a caramel macchiato? This was simply another task that needed to be checked off her list, Dylesia reminded herself. He was dressed like business, and treated every ‘date’ if you could call it that, as a business meeting. More like a symposium of Jack assery, with James being the keynote speaker. No one, could wear a suit better than Otto, Dylesia thought wistfully. A girl could dream. “You know…” Her attention snapped back to the man across from her, realizing that she hadn’t been listening to a thing he had said. “For a board member, I expected you to dress better.” Ah yes. Thank you underhanded compliment. “Excuse me?” Dylesias expression soured, her face betraying her clear amusement. “You know, there’s nothing wrong with casual, but there’s always a time and a place.” We were done here. Dylesia stood and pushed her coffee cup over to him, and gathered her book. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Where are you going?” James asked, a puppy like expression crossing his previous ‘all business’ appeal. “Typically, girls don’t come on dates to be given fashion lessons.” Dylesia huffed and stepped out of the cafe, quickly turning on her heels to head towards her home. She wasn’t entirely sure what made Nelly pick these men, but she was surprised that Bill was completely normal if this was an example of perfectly amiable. Otto needn’t search far. His eyes caught sight of her, hearing her soft voice grumble in that cute way she did before she had noticed him. Bingo. On her heels, came a man. Dressed in a suit and trailing Dylesia like a pathetic animal. Otto went rigid almost immediately, jealousy rearing it’s ugly head. A hand was firm on her wrist, yanking Dylesia back to James. “You OWE me. Who do you think you are walking out on a man like that.” Oh. So he wanted to fight, Dylesia thought. She could fight with the best of them. She spun and pressed a firm hand on his chest, shoving him away from her. “I don’t know who the FUCK you think you are!” She snapped, anger very clearly coming to the surface. “I don’t owe you a thing.” Otto watched, his actuators hissing in response to him. No one. Touched his bird. Hands firmly grabbed her arms, leaving indents in her skin. “Listen here you bi–“ before the sentence can be finished, a metal arm had thrown the man firmly on his ass on the concrete. Of all the times to make an appearance.

Flower stems were quickly becoming crushed under the mans firm grip, as he quickly stepped in front of Dylesia. He’d be damned if this fraud would lay a finger on her. Dylesia was hit with the sudden rush of cigar smoke and cologne, a scent she had longed for for so long. “Get your filthy hands from off of her.” Otto dangerously growled, his four extra appendages spinning and opening and closing in a menacing fashion. The wilted man stood and brushed off his coat. “You didn’t tell me you were with a freak.” He lashed out to Dylesia, eying up Otto. “Keep her. She’s not that great.” James spun, keeping his fear temporarily hidden before running in the opposite direction. “Scum.” Otto spat, before turning and facing his bird. “My love…” Otto spoke softly, actuators gripping the flowers while flesh examined her quickly, pressing soft kisses along her wrist. “What are you doing?” She finally croaked, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “Shh.” Otto spoke softly, gently reaching up and brushing the tears away from her cheeks. “Let me explain.” All she could do was nod, and hope, and pray with everything in her that this time, Otto Octavius would keep her.

#Spotify #otto octavius #doc ock #spiderman fandom #docock/oc #doctor octopus #perfect #fanfic #doc ock x oc #music #infectmewithyourloving

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exosmuttytalk · 4 years ago

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Exols Secret Santa 2020

This is my Exols Secret Santa present for @jissoyaa

I hope you had a wonderful and warm Christmas and that you enjoy my belated present!

PROFESSIONAL

Characters: Byun Baekhyun, unnamed OC.

Rating: Mature (but not a lot)

Word count: ~3000

Summary: Adapting to a new job is never easy, especially with an attractive boss criticising your every move.

As soon as the last chords of the song stopped playing, Baekhyun stormed off the stage, clutching the earpiece he’d ripped off mid live performance. You bumped into each other at the turn of a corner and that only seemed to increase his anger despite the fact that the person he was looking for was, in fact, you. His fingers wrapped around your wrist to raise your hand and he forcefully put the earpiece in your palm.

“I don’t think you have noticed, but this has been shocking me since the music started,” he explained harshly.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe the wire isn’t connected properly…?” You trailed off as you started to examine the faulty piece.

“I don’t know if it’s connected or not, that’s your job and not mine. This is a beginner’s mistake. Please, do your job.”

Despite not having raised his tone, the severity on his words made you recoil enough for him to swiftly walk away in direction to the dressing room. You were in the verge of tears when you saw two of the other members walking down the hallway in search of their own rooms. Kyungsoo gave you a sympathetic look.

“It’s okay, those things are awful. We’ve all been shocked once or twice, at least.”

You faked a smile in response.

“I’m sorry in his behalf. He’s not usually like this, but it’s been an exceptionally hard time for him.”Junmyeon’s excuse for his friend didn’t really make up for the fact that the short time you had been working as a manager for Baekhyun had been, simply put, awful. Although you had already been working in the industry for quite some time and had acted as a manager temporarily for other idols, you had only been able to half-ass his demands and had been the cause of delay at least a couple of times. The pace at which they worked was way faster than what you were used to, and Baekhyun hadn’t been merciful. The stress was starting to get to you.

“Thank you both,” you straightened up and gulped your tears. “But he’s right. I haven’t been on top of my game, as you deserve. I’ll do better and everything will be better.”

“I’ll try to talk to him,” Junmyeon nodded understandingly.

......................

Water, bottled, check.

Sweetened green tea, bottled, check.

Red tea, in bags, check.

Instant ramen, check.

Fruit (strawberries), check.

Towels, hands and body, check.

Outfit cases 1, 2, 3, check.

Lapel microphone, 2, check.

Hand held microphone, 2, check.

Earpiece and batteries, 2, check.

It was the third time you went through the papers that listed everything necessary in the dressing room and the second time you stopped at that exact point to check on the item which had caused the most trouble last time. You had not yet seen Baekhyun again and had only contacted him through text messages to tell him the time he’d need to be at the venue and ask for any other requests, which he had only answered with a formal “no need, thank you”.

You were still fumbling with the earpiece when the sudden opening of the door startled you and made you drop what you in your hands between your feet and the just arrived Baekhyun. His eyes dropped down to the shattered earpiece on the floor and then slowly back up to meet yours.

“I had to wear that today.”

His fixed stare was already starting to wear off the confidence you had worked so hard to build over the last two days. You stumbled over your words until an idea popped into your mind. It was okay. You were prepared for such a scenario.

“I have a backup earpiece. In case anything happened to the first one.”

“Hmm,” Baekhyun nodded seriously, his eyes were scanning the rest of the room and came to a halt when he found the basket of assorted fruit, which displayed a hefty amount of the strawberries you had found through another member of the staff he liked. “Everything seems in order. Please, go find the stylist.”

.........................................................

You got to watch the interview the group gave from the outer part of the stage and couldn’t help but notice how different Baekhyun’s demeanor was in comparison to when he talked only to you. As it had been normal through the years the group had been on the spotlight, Baekhyun stole the spotlight with his bright smile, bubbly personality and witty comments. Polar opposite of the cold, distant and sometimes downright mean person he had been to you. It would’ve come as a lie if you told yourself you weren’t the slightest bit disappointed by this turn of events.

By the time Exo debuted you had already been working in the industry for some time and knew pretty much everything there was to know about the idol life. Still, you couldn’t help but be smitten by the presence of one particular member. That initial infatuation, luckily for you, subsided through the years and let way to a deep appreciation and admiration for the man that now was technically your boss. The same man who had motivated you to do better in your own career and who was, ultimately, the reason why you had chosen to take the plunge and apply for SM. The same man who had turned out to be…standoffish, for lack of a better term to describe him.

It definitely was a disappointing turn of events, but you were determined to be the better person and the better professional.

As the performance unfolded, you watched Baekhyun intently; prepared in case a situation like the other day’s should arise again. But it didn’t. Everything went swimmingly and the group was all bows and smiles as they exited the stage.

You tried to disguise the smug expression in your face when you walked up to Baekhyun and handed him a hand towel and a bottle of water before he even asked for it, but your smile grew wider when he seemed surprised to see you there and well prepared for the occasion.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” you asked solicitously.

“That’s all I need now, thank you.”

“Would you maybe like to have lunch in the dressing room? The catering service seems pretty good here, better than the dry noodles, I feel.”

“Uhh…yes, I think that would be nice.”

“I’ll take care of that,” you responded before turning around to leave, crossing eyes with Junmyeon, who was showing off his best reassuring smile towards you.

........................................

Precariously balancing the tray holding the plates of food against your hip, you knocked loudly on the door of the dressing room for the second time. Still no answer, so you pushed the door open and came into the seemingly empty room. The room offered the same neat appearance as when you left earlier in the morning. You had already started arranging the plates on the countertop when rustling came from the door at your back that lead to the bathroom.

After considering the possibilities, you tiptoed as silently as possible towards the door, hoping to get out of there as soon as possible. But it was too late. The door slid open and out came Baekhyun, one of the towels you had carefully arranged that morning wrapped against his waist and wet hair sticking out in all directions.

His eyes met yours and no one said a thing, but you were trying to calculate how likely this was to be the last straw that would finally get you fired.

“That’s a lot of food,” he said, diverting his gaze towards the food arrangement.

“I knocked,” you answered without processing his words.

“Yeah, I know.”

“But I knocked twice.”

“Yeah. I know.”

His nonchalance about the whole thing caught you off guard, your hand in the door knob as you watched him move across the room to the table, still in the towel and seemingly not caring about his partial nakedness. The spicy side dishes caught his attention first and he started eating right away. He picked one of the empty plates and handed it over to you, not much thought into the action. His eyes went back to search for you when you didn’t pick the plate. He was still chewing when he said:

“Eat up. We can’t be throwing that much food away.”

He filled up a plate of his own and sat down in one of the rotating chairs, looking at you standing there, awkwardly.

“Are you gonna turn me down?”

“No! No, no!”

You rushed to the table and filled up part of your plate. As unusual as the situation might have been, it was already two hours past your lunch time and the food looked delicious. You sat down and started eating in silence, trying hard not to brazenly look at the half naked man in front of you.

“Look, I wanted to talk to you,” he blurted before taking a gulp of water.

“Okay…”

“Junmyeon has…brought to my attention how unwelcoming I have been since we started working together.”

“I wanted to talk about it to you too,” you interjected. He seemed surprised but you didn’t back down. “I don’t want to beat around the bush anymore. I know you don’t like me. I have made mistakes, I’ll admit that. Still, if you feel I am not a good fit for the position, I’ll ask the company to reassign me with someone else.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not my fault?”

He just shrugged as a response.

“Then why are you being such an ass?”

Your hand darted up to cover your mouth as soon as the words came out.Baekhyun just looked at you fixedly. Then, he left out a small chuckle that grew little by little until it became full blown laughter. The ridiculousness of the situation puzzled you, so you just stayed silent until his laughing fit subsided.

“He, he…he… You have some temper huh?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that,” you eyes dropped down to your lap where you still held you plate, heat creeping up to your cheeks.

“No, no! It’s okay, really. I found it really funny. Are you going to cry!?” he slid across the floor towards you to grab your free hand.

The sweet gesture caught you off guard, but you didn’t get to pull you hand away before he let go off it first. He stood up and walked around the room, his hands clutching the hair at the back of his head; but his expression was neutral again when he sat back down on his chair.

“My previous manager had been with me since the beginning. He didn’t leave; he was fired after he had some issues with a superior. We all interceded for him, but there was no use. He was like family to me and it’s been hard adjusting.” His eyes traveled aimlessly through the room and he let out a sigh. “But it’s not your fault and you have been improving. I’m sorry for being unfair.”

He seemed genuine and you wore your heart in your sleeve. You reached towards him and grabbed his hand the same way he had tried to comfort you earlier. Mind you, your intertwined hands were resting on top of his toweled thigh, dangerously close to…

“I should get going!”

You stood up as if you had been shocked, sending the plate that sat on your thighs to the floor. Immediately after, you kneeled down, trying to pick up the mess and leave as soon as possible. Baekhyun also wanted to help, and leaned in at the precise same moment as you did. Your heads bumped into each other and the impact made you fall down on your butt.

“Oh, God, are you okay?”

As he rubbed the sore spot on his forehead, he held his hand out but miscalculated the strength he’d need to help you stand up, which made you bump into his chest and hold onto him for balance.The sequence of blunders had left you at a loss for words, but he still sported a mocking half smile as he looked at you intently. Being so close to him, you were able to smell his shower gel.

“So… do you forgive me?”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” you answered taking a step back. “I am looking forward to working with you, Baekhyun.”

“Me too,” he answered while shooting the first genuine smile you’d seen on his face.

That smile made your heart skip a beat and time seemed to stretch as you looked at each other in silence. The possibility of leaning in to kiss him crossed your mind.

“Do you think we could maybe, sometime, go out for a drink? As in, together?”

The proposal came so much out of the blue that you responded in the only way you could think of. You leaned in and kissed him.

It was short and quick. A simple peck on the lips that was enough for a spark of fun to appear in Baekhyun’s eyes, and after waiting for the approval in yours, he went back in for a second kiss. Hours or seconds could have gone by and it wouldn’t have been any different to you. As soon as his hot breath grazed your skin, all your precautions were out the window. His hands that caressed your neck and your back made you forget you were making out with someone who could finish your career off and you didn’t care. The murmured curse he let out when you pressed your body against him in a fit of boldness gave you butterflies in the stomach you hadn’t felt since you first saw him on a screen.

The door knob poking on your back made you realize he had been pulling you around the room as he kissed you. He looked at you with a serious expression despite the flush on his face and his disheveled half dry hair.

“Do you want this?” he asked with a husky voice you hadn’t heard from him before.

You only nodded in response.

“Then do me a favor and lock the door.”

Your hand slid between the door and your back, searching for the lock while never leaving Baekhyun’s eyes. He responded by slamming you against the wall to proceed attacking your neck. His lips were soft and warm against your skin, but he would nibble slightly when you least expected it; the contrast making you crazy. The blouse you were wearing had been pulled out of the waistband of your pencil skirt and his hands already explored freely the skin of your back and your belly. As he began unbuttoning the blouse, you grabbed onto the hair on the nape of his neck. He let out a malicious chuckle and introduced one of his legs between your thighs pinning you even more against the wall and creating that delicious friction you craved.

“You’re such a tease, who would’ve told,” he said with a smug expression as his hands slid under your bra to fondle your breasts.

“You don’t fall short of that either-”

The last word came out as a moan when Baekhyun leaned in to capture your right nipple between his lips. It took no time of him sucking, licking and biting for you to be a wriggly mess. His other hand, which had been occupied in your other breast glided down across your stomach to toy with the zipper that held your skirt together. Instead of taking it off, he slid his hand past the fabric of the skirt and your underwear and carefully stroked around until he found the wetness that had been pooling for quite some time by then.

“Look at you! I’ve barely kissed you but you’re already so wet.” He pulled his hand out to raise his fingers towards your open lips. “I’ll take care of that.”

The hint of mockery in his voice drove you wild and you licked your fingers with delight as he looked you on like an eagle watches its prey. Soon enough, his fingers were back where they had left and they wasted no time. Baekhyun set a relentless pace that had you panting for air in just a few minutes. You were holding onto his shoulders for leverage and left some scratches on his soft skin. His forehead was pressed against yours, eyes closed, breathing off each other. A single drop of sweat rolled down his cheek. His fingers inside you were working magic and you could feel the buildup starting to form in the lower part of your belly. Your only warning came in the form of another tug from his hair and, as soon as he heard what you were going through, he covered your mouth with his free hand and helped you ride your high.

You opened your eyes to find him still holding you against the wall, looking at you with an illegible expression on his face.

“You have beautiful eyes,” he said with a sheepish smile before letting go off you.

Despite having the door locked, you suddenly felt the urge to get everything back into place and get the hell out of there. You readjusted all your clothes and took a quick glance in the mirror to decide your hair needed to be put in a bun in order to look presentable again. When you were done, you turned around to face Baekhyun, who was sitting down again and observing your rustle.

“So will I be able to see you again soon?”

“Yeah, hmm…You’ll see me tomorrow morning. Radio show with CBX, remember? I’ll text you the reference this evening.”

A satisfied expression spread over his face as he approached the door to open it for you.

“Thank you. That’s very professional.”

___________________________

@exolssecretsanta

#exolssecretsanta20 #exo #exo fanfiction #exo smut #baekhyun #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff

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raspberry-arev · 4 years ago

Text

After The Flood - pt.1

@opalpower13 thank you for sending me a suggestion that inspired this!! There will be a part two :)

It has been 10 years since the famous British boyband, The Ark, disbanded for personal reasons. Jimmy and Lister have been a couple for a long time now, and as the trio of friends starts their small revival tour, they both realize there are things they need to say - to each other, to the fanbase, and to the world.

Characters: Jimmy, Lister, Rowan, Angel/Feresteh, OC Abby (Rowan’s wife)

Tags: Bicci, Older Ark, Proposal, Coming out ... no Frowan this time sorry

Length: 3.6k words

JIMMY

It’s often impossible to pinpoint what exactly set off an event – or perhaps multiple – that changed your life as you knew it.

That was not Jimmy’s case, however. He remembered that Barbecue Saturday very well.

This time, it was Rowan and his spouse Abby who hosted. The two couples took turns and Jimmy was oh so grateful for it; the idea of managing Lister’s chaotic culinary experiments more than twice in one summer filled him with dread.

On Saturday morning, Jimmy and Lister packed up and drove all the way to the suburbs of London where Rowan and Abby lived. The sun was bright, everything gleamed buttery yellow, and Jimmy managed to talk Abby into letting him set the table and carry in all the food instead of her, which was quite an accomplishment. She was about as stubborn as her husband.

They rarely invited more than three extra people though. Being in the public eye in your formative years made you appreciate small gatherings of trustworthy people. And one of those proved to be Angel. Or, you know, Feresteh, but her nickname really stuck with them. From that time Jimmy nearly quit the band and Lister impaled himself and almost drowned in mud… yeah, call that a wild youth.

Over ten years later, they were hardly the same people.

After they decided to quit being The Ark for their own wellbeing and safety, Rowan kept his place in the music industry as a songwriter, producer and a solo artist. He went with the name Le Monde, a play on his surname as well as French for “the world”. It suited him. He was the world, never small, never just one thing.

Lister stopped being involved in music after a few collabs. While he was figuring out what to do next, he took a few modelling jobs, acted in music videos and got a small part in a sitcom. Jimmy used that time to get a college degree, but found he just wouldn’t be able to get the usual “college experience” he yearned for, and only got his diploma after doing classes long-distance.

Jimmy and Lister also got together. After many failed attempts at courtship and pretending being friends with benefits was enough… they got together. To Jimmy, it felt like it was inevitable; they have acted like partners long before it was official, they just needed to clean up their own messes before they could be a couple. It wouldn’t have felt right back then, but it did now.

Rowan was already at the grill preparing meat and grilling camembert in shiny aluminium foil when Angel marched in, tall, elegant, beaming. Jimmy loved to see her again. Each time, she seemed a little more confident, more expressive, more… just more. She really did find her calling in the music industry, just as much as he found his tucked away in rural England with his boyfriend.

Yet, he was to be “tucked away” no longer. At a certain point during their cook-out, their group fell momentarily silent; everyone was chewing their meal and soaking in the sun. Then Angel said, in an unfamiliar, cautious tone: “You see, I was talking to a couple of people…”

Rowan exchanged a quick look with Jimmy. “Go on,” he said.

“It’s gonna be ten years since you guys disbanded, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy echoed.

“So. I was thinking. Hear me out, even if you think it’s bollocks…” Angel shot them a look, and then made a motion with her hand as if she was presenting them with something. “Have you ever thought of doing a revival concert?”

As Rowan did a theatrical “errrm”, Jimmy saw straight through his best friend’s bullshit: the two of them rehearsed this conversation. He knew Ro for most of his life, who did he think he was fooling?

His mind offered the answer quickly: Abby, perhaps. He wants to see how she would react, doesn’t he? Rowan would love to do a revival show like that, no doubt, but he valued his wife’s opinion too much to make a decision without her.

He felt movement on his left, and looked Lister in the eyes.

“Well,” said Lister, looking at him. “Wow, okay,” said Jimmy. Both were considering.

Angel swiftly picked up, “Just wanted to run this idea by you. Not because it’s me who would love to see you play once more – I mean, of course I would – but it’s expected to have an amazing turn-out.”

“Obviously, they’re The Ark,” Abby commented matter-of-factly.

“You’re right, Abby. So, guys? How are we feeling about this?”

It was bizzare. Normally, Jimmy would have expected to say he wasn’t at all interested – the boyband life was not for him anymore, tough luck – but recently, he felt a strong sense of nostalgia surge through him as the ten year mark got closer. He found himself reaching for his old guitar way more often, strumming at it, looking for something between the strings he could not reach.

Maybe he could do it just once.

What eventually came out of his mouth was… “I haven’t sung like that for a long time though.”

“You sing to me,” Lister contradicted him, his fingers intertwining with his. “All the time.”

Jimmy felt his face get hotter. “That’s hardly… Are you thousands of people?” He turned to Angel. “How many are we talking, anyway?”

She smiled a kind smile. “I don’t know, Jimmy, that depends on whether you three are up to it or not.”

Rowan cleared his throat. “Personally speaking, I think I wouldn’t mind, as long as we are just doing it once, and not trying for a comeback. I wouldn’t go there.”

“Same,” Lister nodded. “I love you guys, but I’m fine the way things are.”

“Right,” said Rowan firmly. “But… just this once, I mean, why not? We could use some extra money.” With this, he gently let his palm rest on Abby’s belly that swelled under her summer dress like a balloon. (Jimmy fought the urge to aww at them.)

Abby immediately assured him they were more than fine financially, but Rowan barely listened, clearly waiting for his former bandmates to say something. Jimmy felt Lister looking at him, unwavering. So he turned to him and asked, “What do you think? Cool or not?”

“I’m waiting for you to say.”

“Why?”

“Don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“You shouldn’t… Just say what your opinion is!”

“You express your opinion,” Lister retorted, pretending to square his shoulders as a threat. Jimmy lovingly nudged him, and to stop being annoying to the remaining three people at the table, he shrugged, “It doesn’t sound so bad. One concert. I mean, we are still friends after all this time, so why not?”

“In that case, I would love to be the centre of attention again!” Lister exclaimed and gave Jimmy a boyish grin. “The crowd was deprived of my looks for too long.”

“Buddy, you were the drummer,” Rowan said. “Bold of you to assume anyone even looked at you with me and Jimmy jumping at the front.”

Jimmy snorted with laughter, but Lister was quick to defend himself. “Google all Lister Bird slash Reader fanfic and then we can talk about who got noticed, buddy.”

“Oi, you’re not even properly revived yet, stop fighting!” Angel called out, but laughter started bubbling from every direction before she even finished the sentence.

They had a proper business meeting about it in two weeks. And then another and another. When they announced the first date, the sales went through the roof. Jimmy had to get off of social media because the internet exploded with their names and faces. But he sort of found it a bit sweet, that so many people stuck around for them, like old friends that he never had the chance to talk to. One concert became three and then five, which was, honestly, more like a small tour at that point. Jimmy fought to call it After The Flood and won.

LISTER

“You really shouldn’t do that, you know. This bitch is hard to get rid of.”

Rowan tried to hide a small cough and put out his cigarette on the metal window sill next to him. “Hey,” he greeted Lister. “Didn’t expect you to come out here.”

“Yeah.” Lister found it hard to hang around smokers, and unfortunately, he met quite the number of them while they were in the process of rehearsing. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“What’s up?”

“Can we walk, like, over there? So… nobody can hear us through the door?”

Rowan eyed him suspiciously, but he followed him to the railing on the edge of the roof. There, he turned to him, seeming to fight himself.

“I’m really looking for a less shitty way to ask this,” he admitted eventually. “But… What have you done now, Lister?”

Lister felt a sort of numbed cramp seize his stomach for a second. It took a lot not to let anger overcome him. They were well over thirty, how the hell was Rowan still treating him like a fuck up? But no. This was more important than old grudges.

“Nothing! As of yet,” he assured his bandmate.

“Okay…?”

“Right. So. Erm. Nobody is here, right? Fine. I had this idea… you know, Jimmy and I have been together for a long time and I obviously care about him a lot, I always have, you kind of know that…”

“Yes, go on,” he pushed on gently.

“Fuck it. I want to fucking propose!”

A giant weight fell off his shoulders when he spoke those words aloud. It was like coming out all over again, god.

Rowan’s eyes twinkled. “Oooh,” he almost whispered, “and you need my help with that? I’m your man, tell me the plan!”

“There is none right now.”

“Oh, okay. I can still help if you want.”

This was another part Lister dreaded discussing.

“I… okay, so, I was thinking of… doing it on stage?”

His friend’s face changed rapidly.

Lister’s dream of a grand proposal to the love of his life in brilliant stage lights and the roars of the audience faded away. “That’s a no? That’s a no. Shit, forget it then.” He felt sick.

“Lister, I’m absolutely positive you mean well,” Rowan started. “But Jimmy would-“

Speak of the devil.

The door opened and out of it peaked Jimmy’s unshaven face. “Oh! There you both are.”

Rowan froze for a second. Lister was ready to improvise. “Alright, so how about I come by yours after practice and you transfer the files to me?” He smiled, but impaled Rowan with a meaningful look.

Fortunately, he caught on. “Oh yeah, yeah, that could work.”

“What files?” Jimmy inquired as he joined them, oblivious.

“Rowan has some of our old drafts still saved. I was thinking of squeezing in a drum solo somewhere, maybe with spoken word over it?”

“Sounds cool,” Jimmy smiled at him and slightly brushed the back of his hand with Lister’s. “Anyway, Dick the Sound Guy wants us all in there immediately.”

“Stop calling him that or I’ll have a Freudian slip at some point,” Lister laughed and guided Jimmy back into the building. Him and Rowan managed to exchange a subtle nod over the shorter man’s head.

JIMMY

As they were packing up that day, Jimmy tried incredibly hard to catch Rowan alone. Just like the old times when he needed to discuss something personal. And yet again, it involved Lister. Jimmy felt young and stupid again, but not really in a good way.

Finally, he managed to stop him while he was putting away the equipment. Lister was meanwhile in the office of their temporary new manager. “Ro, I need advice!” he whispered to his best friend.

“What about?”

“It’s Lister.”

“Oh dear Jesus, I’m having flashbacks.”

“Don’t be a dick, it’s important.”

“Okay then, spill.”

“It kind of involves you too. Just… tell me if it’s a good idea.”

“Go on!”

“I want to, uh… I want to tell people Lister and I are a couple…” He took a breath. “Which means I would be coming out as gay as well, probably. I know that’s, like, a huge pile of drama, so if you don’t want me to complicate the tour, just say it, it’s honestly kind of irresponsible when I’m thinking about it now…”

“Jimbob. Easy.” Rowan waited for a second for Jimmy to wind down, leaning on a stack of five chairs, and then asked, “Are you really sure about it? Do you want people to know?”

Jimmy felt his thoughts humming in his head. He forced himself to say exactly how he felt.

“I know it’s gonna sound super dramatic, but I don’t want to die not saying it,” he explained slowly. “It became really important to me… I don’t know when. But it did. Talking about this part of me, too. I’m just worried about what Lister might say.”

“So I take it that you didn’t discuss this?”

“No way. I don’t even know how to start!” Jimmy exploded in loud whispering. “I should have talked to him a long time ago, but I just didn’t have the balls.”

“I get that, but… just bring it up. Like, theoretically. What if. I think he’s going to support you through it.”

“How could he?”

“What are you even saying at this point?

“You think he would like people sticking their nose in our personal business? I feel like it’s so unfair to him and his privacy… And I feel terrible about still wanting to do it… even though it’s inconsiderate. It’s all a fucking mess.”

“Okay, okay.” Rowan massaged his nose. He looked like he was trying incredibly hard not to snap at Jimmy and be at least somewhat encouraging. “Look, no spoilers, but I am going to say this. Lister absolutely will notbe mad and he will want to talk about the two of you if you give him the chance. That is all.”

“Wait, what? Ro, did he tell you something?”

“I am not talking!”

“Is that how you treat your best friend in a life crisis?!”

“You’re putting me in a life crisis, don’t you dare play the pity card! I swear, the two of you are a nightmare.”

“Rowan! Come back!”

LISTER

His visit to Rowan’s place was very brief, but it was enough for him to understand Rowan’s concerns. Eventually.

Lister explained that it didn’t feel appropriate for him to just whip out a ring in a restaurant: Jimmy was his love, his dream boy, as cliché as it sounded, and he wanted to do something that would measure up to all he was feeling. Which was… well, a whole lot. Like a “get down on one knee in front of thousands of people” lot.

And yet.

“It’s all great, and I’m sure there are people in the world that would love it, but we are talking about Jimmy.”

“Come on. I know, he’s private about… well, everything, but…”

“That, yes,” Rowan pointed at him while holding a can of coke, “but don’t you think this proposal on stage would be an anxiety-inducing situation? Because to me, that sounds like a lot of pressure and nerves.”

“He hasn’t had attacks since we moved and he went on those meds.”

“That doesn’t really –“

“Matter. Yeah. Yeah, I get your point, mate, he would die of shock. And everybody watching him. Fuck, I’m stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” Rowan grinned. “The two of you are just different… in some aspects. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Will I? Lister asked himself as he was driving back to the hotel that Jimmy and him were staying at for the time being. This was the only thing I came up with, like, ever.

When he swept his key card over the sensor and the door to their suite opened, he was greeted by the smell of dinner. He took a look into their little kitchen and found his boyfriend sitting at the table with his laptop. He didn’t notice him for a second, so Lister came up behind him and hugged him tightly.

Jimmy yelped.

“Where’s the food?!” Lister shook him a little, imitating Batman.

“Your hands are so cold!” Jimmy protested, but there was a trace of laughter in his voice. “On the stove, you bully!”

Lister almost flew over there, looking under the lid on the pot.

“Pasta,” Jimmy shrugged. “I needed my comfort food, so that’s that for you.” Lister smiled and thanked him, because yes, he was starving. Pasta was Jimmy’s go-to meal to cook, as it was quick to make and he was a pasta-sauce prodigy.

While his dinner was heating up in the microwave, Jimmy made small-talk about the supposed unused lyrics Rowan and him exchanged. Lister found it hard to lie to him, so he just turned to playful teasing, telling Jimmy to stop sniffing around, he’ll hear it when the time comes.

“Oh come on,” Jimmy huffed. “I’m just asking! And it’s my show, too.”

“Sorry. Totally gonna steal your spotlight.”

“Lister, just tell me what it is.”

“A song.”

“What song?”

“A song that you have to wait for.”

“Babe, what song?!”

Lister took him by the waist and pulled him against his body. “Are you trying to ‘babe’ me into telling you right now? Is that what’s happening? Right in front of my pasta?” He went in for a kiss, and Jimmy tried to murmur something against his lips… but then he gave up. They leaned into each other and kept kissing until Lister pulled away to open the microwave. He got himself a fork and went to sit down after the long day, but Jimmy stayed there, right next to the sink. Looking a bit like he was going to hurl.

Before Lister could ask if he’s okay, Jimmy sat down on the other chair with a determined look on his face.

“There is something I need to discuss!” he blurted out.

Lister cautiously dropped the fork back into the bowl. “Okay…? And it’s something to do with me, yeah?”

“Yep. A lot to do with you.” He was visibly nervous. He clasped his hands together, as if Lister would have not noticed. “I… I was thinking about this one thing, and I need your opinion about it.”

“Cool. Go for it.”

“It’s about our relationship.”

“Are you aware you sound very sinister right now?”

He wildly shook his hands as if he wanted to dry them off. “Sorry, didn’t mean to,” he apologized in a strained voice. Then he cleared his throat, sharply lifted his eyes towards Lister’s and exclaimed, “I would like to reveal that we’re together.”

Lister felt everything about his face go lax in shock. He opened his eyes round and wide, his mouth followed, and Jimmy looked like he would faint.

“I, er. I just. I thought about it and I think it’s a decent idea and – please say something, Lister, before I get a fucking heart attack right now.”

It must have been so hard for him to speak up. Lister thought of his proposal plans and felt his mouth slowly form a smile. “I think it’s… brilliant! Yes, I would really like to do that!”

“Wait, really?”

“This is – I didn’t think you would want to, when did you change your mind?”

Jimmy shrugged, grinning in a sheepish way that made him look much younger. And cuter. “I thought I just… wanted to be open about this part of my life. Figured it’s time to say we are together. But if you, like, don’t feel like it, then…”

Lister beamed. “I feel like it. If you do, I do, trust me.” He walked around the table and lifted Jimmy into a hug. He laughed, relieved.

This was when it dawned on Lister… it was not such an easy matter. Exciting, yes, but it would gather all kinds of attention. He leaned onto the table, grabbed his dinner and him and Jimmy started talking about the situation it would put them in. If both are truly okay with it, how much would they reveal, when is the best time to do it. They kept talking through the bathroom door and while they were changing into pajamas in their bedroom.

As they were laying down and Lister gestured Jimmy to crawl into his arms, they became quieter. “You know why I also want to say it?” Jimmy mumbled, lying on the soft linen with one eye open.

“I’m all ears.”

“If I have to see one more article about which model or actress you’re screwing, I’m gonna lose the remaining marbles that I have.” Lister started chuckling as Jimmy awkwardly added, “Which is, admittedly, not many. Most have been lost in my youth.”

“Oh no,” Lister laughed and turned Jimmy’s face upwards to his. “So this just in: my boyfriend is possessive. Fancy that.”

“I’m not, it’s… I am… Oh, you hated Jowan, stop being smug.”

“I know I did, we both know. But jealous Jimmy? That’s a rare sight.”

“It’s just super uncomfortable. It’s all women, as well.”

“Heteronormativity is a bitch,” Lister nodded. He snuggled closer and let out a breath, “Don’t worry though. I am exclusively your problem.”

Jimmy kissed him, smiling. Lister felt lightheaded. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Jimmy’s. He loved this – he loved how much he felt for him after so long they have been together. It never ceased or faded away… because it was Jimmy.

Lister was pretty sure he would love him until his last day on Earth.

It was time to start looking for a ring.

#bicci #rowan omondi #jimmy gaga ricci #lister bird #iwbft #i was born for this #fanfiction #osemanverse fanfiction #osemanverse #alice oseman #proposal #request

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wishingupontheskyandstars · 3 years ago

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The Possibility Of You And Me 🎄 Chp. 1

Fic Summary: Arya is in her mid-twenties and is in a place where she never thought she would be. With friendship and courage she's ready to start a new chapter, back to her love of acting--Meeting new people,,,But she never expected to see the one person she thought she would never see again... ;)

Chapter 1 AO3 Link

Side Note: Okay, so this is a different story that I wanted to write. Be prepared, Gendry and even Arya might sound OC during a few flashback scenes, maybe not actually-- BUT this is HEA, so remember that :) This first chapter, I hope, will get you interested to read more so here you go :)

Chapter 1

It was Christmas morning, and all Arya Stark could do was groan. She rubbed her sleepy eyes before she briefly looked at her window, watching the snowfall endlessly. She sighed, turning on her side and closed her eyes, wanting sleep to take her again and back to that dream—

Just then, her bedroom door opened, and two young voices screamed, "Aunt Arya! Aunty Arryya!"

Arya opened her eyes again, rolled them playfully, and scoffed, getting up before her three-year-old niece, Jaena, and five-year-old nephew, Ned, jumped on her bed. "Happy Christmas, you little elves," she said, watching her niece and nephew continue to jump on her bed.

Jaena giggled. "I'm not a elv—I'm a woof!"

Arya nodded, knowing what she meant to say. "Yes, you are a red wolf," she said, finally getting up from bed and stretching her arms and legs. She then walked toward her bathroom to brush her teeth. She looked at herself in the mirror while brushing her teeth. After, she quickly brushed her hair. After putting her brushes away, she looked at herself in her long-sleeved gray knit blouse and matching pajama bottoms. She shrugged and thought she looked presentable enough.

"Grannyy told us to get you!" Ned yelled as he finally sat down on the bed.

"We can't open the prezz-ents until ev'ry one is downsairs, Aunty Arryya," Jaena yelled as she continued to jump.

"Mmm...I figured," Arya murmured as she opened her closet and wrapped a warm purple scarf around her neck. She slipped on her Ugg slippers. "Okay, you two, let's go open presents." She grinned at them.

"I wanna jump," Jaena said. Ned jumped to the ground and started running toward the hallway, raising his hands and screaming, "Happy Christmas! Happy Christmas!"

Arya chuckled. She looked at her jumpy niece and smiled. "Okay, you wolf, it's time to go." She quickly grabbed Jaena mid-jump and carried her tiny body as she started to walk out of her bedroom. She looked at her niece's red hair and playfully messed it up, making the girl giggle. Arya smiled and then said, "Let's first get some cookies."

"Yay!" Jaena screamed as she held on to her Aunty.

As classical holiday music played in the background, friends and family of the Stark's were around the heavily decorated Christmas tree. The tree had grey, blue, and purple colored ornaments and colorful lights not just wrapped around the tall tree but all around the family room and the house.

Arya drank some coffee before placing the mug on the end table beside her. She sat in an oversized armchair, farthest away from the Christmas tree and everyone. She snuggled with her new knitted blanket that Sansa made for her.

Minutes later, Arya looked up from her phone and saw Robb and Talisa sitting on the floor, closest to the tree. Their kids wrapped tinsel around them. Young Ned went to sit on his mother's lap while Jaena placed a sticky bow on Robb's head.

Arya chuckled as she saw her parents sitting next to each other on the couch, holding hands, and whispering to each other. Sansa and her boyfriend of many years, Arya lost count, Theon Greyjoy, sat on the other side of the tree. With Sansa's help, he was trying on the turtleneck sweater made by her.

Arya sighed, taking another sip of coffee, observing her cousin, Jon, making sure his pregnant wife for the fourth time was all right laying on the chaise lounge, and hearing Ygritte saying for the fifth time, "I'm fine! Argh!" Arya was distracted that she didn't listen to her best friend, Daenerys Targaryen, sit beside her.

"Oh, wow! Did Sansa make this? It looks beautiful and feels so warm," she said, taking some of the blanket from Arya's lap.

Arya half-smiled with her brow raised. "Mmm... Sure, you can take some of it."

Daenerys smiled, placing the blanket over her lap. "Even though the heater is on, I forget how cold it can still be up here!"

Arya leaned into her friend, "I missed you."

Daenerys leaned into her in a half hug before releasing her. "Same here," she smiled before looking at everyone in front of them. "I was wondering why you were way over here and not with everybody else."

"Just a habit, I guess." Arya shrugged her shoulders.

Daenerys shivered in her silk pajamas before raising the blanket to her waist. She then put her hair behind her ears and said, "Thank you for these earrings; they are my favorite present so far."

Arya nodded. She saw the silver dragon earrings shimmer beautifully with her fair hair. She reached over to the end table and grabbed a slim box, opening and revealing theater tickets. "I can't believe you were able to get these tickets."

"I know you're a fan of the director, so voila!" She grinned, hoping to see more response from Arya. She then gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm worried about you, Arya."

Arya looked startled as she said, "What—Why?"

"Since you came back to Winterfell four years ago, all you do is work, come here, eat then sleep, then start again. When was your last audition?"

Arya sighed, not wanting to talk about this. "You perfectly well know, Dany. Four years ago." She leaned back into the chair. "I gave up acting long ago."

"You should have never listened to that jerk from Essos. After that, you lost a part of yourself. I want to help you get back to what I know you love."

"That part of my life is over," Arya said solemnly, then shrugged, looking ahead.

"You're just going to do an endless stream of jobs, including giving lessons on how to ride a horse for the rest of your life?"

Arya crossed her arms. "Maybe...Look, can we drop this, please?!"

Daenerys sighed, then shook her head. "Fine." She loved Arya like the sister she never had and remembered what it was like to see her on stage and dazzle in front of everyone. "Arya?"

"Yeah?" She said, staring ahead.

"I'm moving back to Westeros."

Arya turned her head quickly to look at Dany. "Really?" Skype, text messages, and e-mails were not enough forms of communication to talk with her best friend. She barely saw her in person in the last four years.

Daenerys nodded with a smile. "I applied for a few positions at magazines and publishers over here and got hired in King's Landing."

"Congratulations. You're a great writer-- I'm so happy for you." Arya squeezed Daenerys' hand.

Daenerys squeezed back and said, "I've found a condo and plan to move in after the New Year, and I need a roommate."

"Okay..."

"Will you be my roommate?" Daenerys asked with a hopeful expression.

"What?!" Arya's eyes enlarged.

Daenerys nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! It'll be great, and you can find a job in the world you love!"

"Wait—I...Oh Gods," Arya muttered. She felt all of a sudden everything was happening so fast. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath then let it out. She did this a couple of times before opening her eyes. "I don't know..." she said with honesty.

"Look, Arya—I'm sorry that I just sprung this on you, but I think it's a great opportunity for you."

"What if I don't find a job in the industry?"

Daenerys scoffed and said, "Always thinking negatively."

Arya raised her hands in surrender. "I'm thinking realistically."

"There are so many opportunities in King's Landing. I know you'll find something." She assured Arya, bumping her shoulder gently with hers.

Arya nodded. "I'll think about it. That's the best I can do right now."

Daenerys smiled. "Okay."

Arya wanting to change the subject quickly, said, "Hey, do you want to see a video I took last night of young Ned and Jaena sneaking up on Jon in the kitchen, and he screamed like—" She showed Dany her phone when suddenly Jon's very high pitched scream was heard, making both laugh out loud.

"What are you two laughing at?" Sansa asked, putting on a kid's version of reindeer antlers on Jaena.

Arya raised her brow. "Oh, you want to know?" She pressed buttons on her cell, and a second later, various chimes were heard around the room.

"That's me!" Young Ned said, still sitting in his mother's lap as Talisa and he looked at her cell phone.

Robb laughed and said, "Oh, this is wonderful."

Ygritte laughed, looking at her phone, "This is going to be my ringtone."

"Arya!" Jon screamed from across the room.

Arya chuckled and looked innocently across the room at Jon. "What?" she asked.

"You sent it to everyone!" Jon yelled, shaking his head. The video was being played over again, even making Arya's parents laugh.

"Oops," Arya said with a shrug.

Days later, before the sunset, Arya rode her favorite horse, Nymeria, toward the edge of the woods. She stopped and looked out at the town of Winterfell below. It looked like a lively town with snow and lights clustered all over.

"There you are," her father, Ned Stark, said as he approached with his horse.

Arya turned around and saw her father dressed in one of his bulky coats. She smiled.

"Have you made your decision?" Ned asked. He got off his horse, and Arya followed suit.

She walked around her horse to stand next to her father, looking over the town. She felt her eyes were getting glassy. It was a mixed emotion of missing her family but strangely excited to find what comes next. She looked up at her father's face, and in a shaky voice, she said, "Yes." She made the decision days ago.

Ned nodded and formed a small smile. "Good." He wrapped his arm around his daughter. "We're going to miss you," he added. She wrapped her arm around him and leaned into him, knowing she would miss her father the most.

A week later, Arya found herself in front of a modern designed condominium building.

"It's so big." Arya looked up. "Which level are we on, again?"

"We're on the eighth floor," Daenerys said as she grabbed a box from Arya's hybrid vehicle then closed the door with her hip.

On the other side, Arya grabbed her luggage or instead just her bag, realizing all her clothes were scattered on the ground in the back seat. She sighed, realizing her niece and nephew probably did this; This made her chuckle.

Daenerys smiled. "What's so funny?"

"I think in retaliation to moving away, Ned and Jaena took all my clothes from my luggage and scattered them on the ground."

Daenerys laughed. "Lovely—Do you want me to help?"

Arya shook her head. "I got it. I'll see you up in our condo."

She nodded and said, "Okay—I'll order take out."

"Yes! I'm starving." Arya smiled before looking at the mess of clothes in front of her. "Those little—" She laughed again before she started to fling her clothes in the luggage piece.

Holding luggage pieces in each hand, Arya walked inside the lobby. With her left knuckle, she pressed the button for the elevator. A minute later, the door opened, revealing someone she had not seen in years except in her dreams.

She spoke without thinking. "Gendry?"

He first looked at her in confusion before recognition set in a second later. He gave her a half-smile. His eyes met hers with gentleness. "Arya," he said calmly.

She didn't expect the way he said her name to take her breath away. She gulped, unable to speak. She stepped into the elevator with her luggage.

They were less than a meter away from each other as they continued to stare at each other. Arya didn't see Gendry move away. He continued to stand where he was. Her eyes didn't leave his, even as the elevator doors closed behind them.

End Note: I know, there was just a little Gendry at the end, but of course MORE is to come!! <3

#gendrya #arya x gendry #arya stark #gendry baratheon #modern westeros #ao3 #fanfic #multi chapter fic #my fanfic

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i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years ago

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Hike-Story

So...I’ve been on a hike today with friends and I’ve been told a lovely local legend of my country and region. I’ve decided to put it into a short story with Thorin.

It’s a sort of prequel to all the amazing stories some authors write about Thorin and OCs while already under the Mountain... Please feel free to reblog and further the local saga of Oberschlinden 😊

So...here goes...

Black

Prologue

In a valley hidden within a dark forest, there were once two villages, very different from one another and yet doomed to suffer the same fate.

The first village was prosperous and industrious and its inhabitants knew much success in their bountiful endeavours, whereas the second village was merry and joyous, filled with music and celebrations all year round.

One day, a weary gleeman came this way and asked to be lodged and fed in exchange for a tune, but the upstanding villagers turned him away for they were much afeared that he had come to rob them of their wealth and goods. “We have no need for your futile, frivolous shenanigans.” They claimed and forbade him to set foot into their town.

Understanding what they were really afraid of, the man replied: “So be it, I should not have taken a single coin that had not been given to me freely. For your callous ignominy, I shall leave you something instead.”

And with these words, he turned around and headed to the other village across the valley.

Here, he was welcomed with open arms. He was fed and housed and after having regained his strength, he went on his merry way again to entertain and amuse other villages. The villagers were much aggrieved about his departure as they had greatly enjoyed his contribution to their daily merriment. They let him leave with their best wishes, nonetheless, for they were an indolent people, unable and unwilling to defend their interests with any kind of forcefulness.

A shadow fell over the valley. A dark sickness befell the first village and rapidly spread across the valley to the other one that had taken no precautions to keep the grim reaper out. Too busy had they been celebrating life and the sinking sun to pay any heed to the pestilence creeping their way.

This is how the first village learned that one who is too afraid to lose what he cannot keep, might well be given what he cannot get rid of, and the second village understood that evil spread faster than fell the night and crept, insidious, into every crack if not actively opposed. Like moss covering the immobile stone, the plague washed over the villages and left none but two women standing.

One of those women would rail and wail all day long, lamenting the loss of her glorious life and of her dear family, until madness took her and she returned to her empty house to wait for death to be her last visitor.

The other one, however, took it upon herself to do penance for the sins of her valley and all its ghostly inhabitants that were heard in the moaning of the wind and the gurgling of the brook.

This is her story.

The sun was low in the sky already when she was startled by the sound of footsteps behind her, making her look up in amazement.

“Good day, good woman, I am a blacksmith and I am looking for the prosperous village hidden in this valley. I am on my way back to my people and I am willing to work in exchange for food and lodging. May you point out the way to me, please?” A gruff voice resounded and a man stepped out of the shadow of the dense foliage.

He was short and stout, unlike any other man she had ever seen in her life, and she was so surprised by his appearance that it took a moment for her to react to his words.

“Good day, Master Dwarf,” she replied courteously, for she now saw that this was what he was, “I am sorry to confess that this village no longer exists. Neither does its sister. I am the last living soul in these parts.”

He looked much alarmed at her words.

“Moreover, there is a sickness lying over the valley. It is not advisable to traverse it.” She went on, getting up from her kneeling position at the foot of the little chapel. “Master Dwarf, I live at the other side of this cursed valley, it is a two-hour walk and the light is failing. I offer you my guidance around the affected area and my hospitality.” She spoke, bowing her head deferentially.

The dwarf seemed to ponder her words for a moment, then nodded.

“Step where I step; the path is treacherous and night shall be upon us soon.” She warned and set out.

Every day, she made her way along the rocky outcrops and the stony ledges, through the dense foliage of the underbrush and the silent desert of trees, to circle the whole valley and pray for hours at the foot of the small chapel for the souls of those who had fallen prey to sickness, stubbornness and wicked ignorance.

Along the way, she collected herbs and mushrooms to sustain herself and produce ointments and potions she sold once a month in the next village, just beyond the valley.

She led a lonely life, but she was unerring in her penance. Those two villages that had been mother and father to her for most of her adult life had done wrong and had been smitten for it by the hand of God. There was nobody left to ask for forgiveness, but her.

“Dwarves have steady steps and exceptional eyesight, even in the darkness. Worry not for me.” The man, for she could not call him anything else than that, answered.

He was well-grown, like an oak, strong and sturdy; he seemed tired though and she vowed that she would not commit the same mistake her forefathers and elders had made; she would be a gracious host. Indeed, she would salve the burns on his bare arms and give him the best parts of whatever she would find in her traps along her daily trek.

“Have you no kin, woman?” He asked after they had mounted a steep rocky ledge leading them through dense undergrowth from which she would extract berries and healing herbs to stow away in the satchels she carried on her back.

“I have no kin, Master Dwarf.” She shrugged, extending her hand to him when they came to a brook. The stones were slippery and wont to shift beneath the unfamiliar foot.

He just chuckled, a sound reminiscent of the big rockslide that had occurred a few months ago, and leapt easily enough across the narrow expanse of wet pebbles.

For a creature looking this heavy, he was surprisingly agile, she thought. She knew nothing about dwarves of course. In her nan’s tales, there had been mentions of those mysterious man-like beings who lived under mountains and in golden halls, but she had imagined them smaller and less…beautiful than what she saw in front of her.

As a matter of fact, she could not remember ever having seen a man quite as enchanting as the one following her swift steps effortlessly. There were beads in his hair that shimmered in the dying light and his eyes were the colour of the great river rushing through the valley; indeed, he was the closest she had ever come to a genuine fairy tale.

“What happened here?” He inquired, as they reached the highest ledge and looked down on the villages, already plunged in deep shadows and obviously deserted.

“A plague broke out and took every living soul. It is said that it was the refusal of hospitality by this village,” she pointed to one cluster of houses, “and the lack of zeal or backbone of that one,” she pointed to the opposite side of the valley, “that led to their doom.”

She had been there, she had seen the people who had been her friends and family die a miserable, painful death and she had waited for the blight to fall upon her as well. It had never come and now, she was the watcher of the dead valley; in a world of ghosts, there was none who felt less alive than her, walking along the deserted ruins of her existence day after day.

“Thank you for warning me.” He had a good voice, she thought, low and kind. It was a miracle to stumble upon another living being, but his voice and the empathy in his eyes felt like a caress upon her bruised soul.

“It is my duty, Master Dwarf. I shall stand in harm’s way as long as I can.”

“My name is Thorin.” He declared in an almost questioning voice. He had been reticent to divulge his name, she realised and turned around to bow deeply.

“Come along, Master Thorin. The light is fading fast now.” She urged him on, almost running along the rocky paths, her feet sending up sprays of pebbles in her wake.

They walked on tirelessly for a long time, until they reached a fallen tree stump that had not been there when she had come this way earlier in the day.

Clambering over the dead wood swiftly, Thorin extended his arms, in turn, to her. She stepped closer and uttered a small cry of astonishment when he simply lifted her over the obstacle as if she weighed nothing at all. “Thank you, Master Thorin.” She bowed again.

He smelled like the pines that grew beyond the valley, she noticed, and like life. Everything about him was painfully alive: the vivid intelligence of his eyes, the small smirk he gave her on account of her breathless incredulity, and the warmth of his hands on her ribs that left a palpable impression.

As she walked on, nearing the point where the path would dip drastically and the danger doubled, she came to accept that she would cherish this encounter until the end of her days.

Maybe God had heard her prayers and granted her the small solace of seeing another soul, of speaking to someone who actually answered and of feeling living flesh upon her own once more.

She extricated a small rabbit from the trap she had laid on the highest crest and pushed it down into her satchel as well, gesturing to the silent valley with a sense of pride.

“This is home. And there’s my hut.” She pointed to a small wooden house at the far end of the valley, nestled between two tiny hills and reflecting the last rays of sun.

The light was growing dimmer now and the way down was treacherous even in broad daylight. “Permit me, Mistress.” He gave her a mocking smile and took her hand.

It felt huge and calloused, but its roughness comforted her. She had lived in this rocky wilderness for years now and the feeling of warm stones would always be synonymous with home to her.

To her shame and despair, she tottered several times on their way down and when Thorin slung his arm around her waist and steadied her, she did not object.

Finally, they reached the little plateau she called her own.

“Give me your boots.” She asked and when he did, she set them aside to be cleaned afterwards.

Stoking the fire, she started taking the small rabbit apart and tossing the various leaves and mushrooms she had collected into the pot filled with fresh water. She would deplete her stocks for him; she would not be a bad host like the first villagers. Also, she would mend his socks, tend to his injuries and clean his boots; she would not be a slovenly scallywag like the second villagers either.

“Make yourself at home.” She invited him, giving him the best chair and a blanket she had woven herself in her youth.

“Are you really all alone?” He asked her, as she sat on the floor, grinding herbs into a paste with devoted focus. “Yes, Master Dwarf.” She smiled, taking his hand and spreading the ointment gingerly on the burns dotting his strong forearms.

“Do you like being alone?” He pressed on, wincing as the wet unguent made his wounds smart.

“It is my punishment and my expiation.” She replied while stirring the stew she was preparing.

His eyes settled heavily on her face and she could read sympathy and sadness in those dark, blue lakes shot through with silver. He looked rather like a gem hewn from precious stone himself, she had to admit, feeling drawn to the solidity of his frame and the living warmth of his gaze.

“Eat, Master Thorin.” She handed him a deep bowl, containing most of the mushrooms and all of the meat she had managed to scrape off the scrawny rabbit.

“What about you?” He asked, suspicious, when she filled a goblet with the fragrant broth.

“Eat.” She encouraged him again. He had obviously known a long and tiresome road and she wanted him to feel safe and cared for; she was thankful for the chance to do right by him.

It was a small redemption of her blood to be a good host after the opposite reaction had plunged her people into extinction.

He looked relaxed now, sitting by the fire, listening to her hum to herself while she cleaned his boots and mended his clothing. “Your gifts are wasted on the dead.” He suddenly said.

“Beg your pardon?” She looked up from polishing his boots, a questioning expression in her eyes.

“You have been a good host to me, you’re a steady cook and a knowledgeable reader of nature. Come with me.”

She blinked. She knew not what he was talking about.

“I am, as I said, on my way to rejoin my kin. Come with me, there is nothing here for you but desolation and loneliness. There are people yet alive beyond this valley and they could greatly benefit from your knowledge…and your sweet nature. Come with me! Be my travel companion!” He reiterated when she didn’t reply.

“I cannot…I am here to…” - “You are here to wait for the next weary traveller and right the wrong inflicted by and upon your people. Consider it done, Mahal has heard you child, I am Thorin, and I shall be King under the Mountain one day. I might be here to deliver you and take you away from this place.” He interrupted her harshly.

A king, she thought, a future king. What prevented him from being king now?

“It is a hard life amongst my people; there will be deprivation and long, cold nights.” He warned her, but she simply motioned to the small hut they sat in while the wind howled with furious intensity outside.

“But…it is a life. I offer you a life, not an easy one, not a pretty one necessarily, but a life. Be the watcher of the living, be the minder of the sick, be the guide of the hale-bodied; leave behind your dead and let them find their peace. Come with me!”

She thought about it for a moment, then nodded. He was right; he might have been the sign she had been waiting for all these years.

Epilogue:

The last survivor of the great plague that had ravaged the valley and left it inhabited forevermore was never seen again. People say, she just vanished at some point. Some hold the belief that she has been carried away by fairies and others claim that on windy nights, one could see her walk along the stony ledges on her eternal way to the abandoned chapel.

We shall never know for sure what really happened to that sole survivor, but her name disappeared from the ledgers, never to be mentioned again in the books of men.

#thorin oakenshield #FanFiction #folklore #imagine #writing #hike #oberschlinder #blacksmith thorin #cursed village #thorin thursday #richard armitage #prologue #go on if you can

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btschooseafic · 3 years ago

Text

Hey you, what’s your dream?

Pairing: platonic!oc x ot7

Details: manager!oc, predebut/idolverse, partial BTS World!verse

Summary: Aviva struggles to keep up with all of her new responsibilities as a manager.

Warnings: This is a fictional story based on real events. The characters presented here are not the same as their real life counterparts. [Masterlist]

Track 9: New Responsibilities

Responsibilities- Thane, Anderson .Paak, BJ the Chicago Kid

“I ain't stressin' bout the future, take it day to day

It's a marathon baby I'm just learnin' the pace”

Aviva stared around at the graffiti on the walls of the private space she had rented for their first dance practice. It wasn’t much, but…

“Siljangnim?” Hoseok called out.

“Hobi!” She called back. “Stop calling me that!”

“But, you are our manager,” he said simply.

She blinked.

“Ah. Right.” She grimaced. He laughed.

“Did you forget?”

“No, I just… you could at least use ‘maenijeo’...” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Or should I call you Jung Hoseok-ssi all the time?”

He rolled his eyes at her formal address.

“Now you’re just making it weird... Have you heard anything from Jungkookie or Jiminie? I texted them, but they haven’t responded.”

She chewed her lip. “They’re not responding to me. Jungkook-ah always showed up to practice on time when I was with him in LA, but I haven’t worked with Jimin-ah that closely yet.” She looked at Taehyung. “What’s his work ethic like?”

Taehyung hummed. “Jiminie works very hard… but he also has trouble sleeping sometimes.”

“That’s understandable,” Yoongi thought.

Jin clicked his tongue. “Kids these days.”

Everyone laughed, although Aviva’s laugh was a little restrained.

“We’re almost out of time for the practice space,” she said worriedly. “Should I book another slot…?”

“Do we have the budget for that?” Yoongi asked bluntly. Aviva sighed.

“I guess we should start the practice without them.” She turned to Namjoon. “Namjoon-ah, you said you had some music you wanted to share with everyone?”

“Yeah.” He popped a CD into the player on the floor.

Taehyung bobbed along to the music. Jin made an uncertain face. Yoongi started arguing about the merits of local artists over international ones.

“Look, we can listen to both,” Aviva said, trying to calm them down.

“Yes, but the order we listen to them is important,” Yoongi insisted. Aviva massaged her furrowed brow.

“Listen, Yoongi-oppa—”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Jungkook said, looking exhausted as he and Jimin walked into the room. They looked more than exhausted, they looked about ready to cry.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Aviva asked worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“We weren’t trying to be late…” Jimin said.

“That’s all okay!” Taehyung said cheerfully. “Come in, my friends!”

“You could’ve let us know that you were going to be late,” Hoseok commented.

“We were too freaked out to think about that,” Jungkook said.

“Freaked out about what?” Aviva pressed.

“You should have called to be considerate,” Jin agreed with Hoseok. “There were a lot of people waiting on the two of you.”

“Hey, it’s only one tardy! Let’s just let this one slide!” Taehyung suggested, smiling brightly. Aviva nodded thoughtfully.

“Only one tardy?” Yoongi said, giving them a cold look. He crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re not here to play around. Whether you meant to be late or not, you have obligations to the group.”

“I agree with Yoongi-hyung,” Namjoon said, crossing his arms too. “You don’t succeed in this industry with just hard work alone.” He sighed. “I’m disappointed. I thought you both were more dedicated to this group. Do you really want to be here?”

“Hyung… how can you…” Jimin was now unmistakably teary eyed. “How can you doubt something like that?” Jungkook patted him on the back, leading him to sit down. Jimin took deep breaths. Aviva frowned, noting the bloody stain on the knee of Jimin’s pants.

“Jimin-ah…” She kneeled down in front of him. “Tell me what happened—how did you hurt your knee?” A few of the older boys made noises of surprise behind her.

“I waited so long for our first practice,” Jimin said. “I was so excited I ran here. But I was dumb and fell down a flight of stairs…”

“I had to convince Jimin-hyung to go to the hospital, that’s why I didn’t think to call,” Jungkook explained.

“Hey, I’ve been excited too,” Aviva told him. “It’s not your fault you fell over—Namjoon-ah does stuff like that all the time.”

“Yah!” Namjoon cleared his throat, his face pink. Jimin laughed a bit, his tears interrupted.

“But I’m glad Jungkookie convinced you to go to the hospital,” Aviva continued speaking to Jimin, ignoring Namjoon. “What did they say?”

“They said it’s fine. Just disinfected it, and gave me a Band-Aid, but it’s coming off already…” Jimin frowned at his knee.

“Oh, I’ve got Band-Aids!” Aviva said, popping up and running over to her bag.

Namjoon chuckled. “You’re just as clumsy as I am, Avi-yah.”

“I’m not,” she disagreed, handing Jimin the Band-Aid. “Does it hurt, Jimin-ah? Do you need anything else?”

“No.” He smiled at her. “The Band-Aid’s enough. Thanks for worrying about me, manager-nim.” He took her hands in his. “But you keep up your health too, okay? Don’t overwork yourself.”

Namjoon frowned slightly as he watched them.

A couple of days passed, and Aviva was still worried about the group dynamic. They kept arguing about small things, like who should change the water cooler. Such arguments were bound to happen, Aviva figured, but the boys seemed to be disproportionately angry in relation to the issue.

Jin and Jimin were refusing to speak to each other, sending Aviva back and forth with messages.

Taehyung interrupted, pointing out that their time slot was over.

Aviva glanced at her phone. “I’m sorry, I’m running late! I need to go, please get home safely, all of you.” She ran out of the room.

That night, the boys accidentally ran into each other in the practice room. The older boys were impressed when they realized the younger boys had been staying late to practice, sleeping over to be able to make the best use of the time.

“Well, that, and we couldn’t find anywhere else to sleep,” Taehyung finished.

Jimin nodded, grimacing.

“You hyungs are still sleeping in the supply closet at the offices?” He wondered.

The rap line trio nodded grimly.

“Usually Avi-yah would’ve realized by now,” Hoseok thought. “Especially when her new office isn’t too far away from the supply closet. Maybe she really is overworked…”

“Is that why Namjoon-hyung lied to her about having found a place to stay?” Taehyung wondered, blinking at him. Namjoon flushed slightly.

“It wasn’t, a lie, exactly.” He ran his hand over his face. “The renovation announcement was so last minute, and she’s got so much on her plate already, I didn’t want her to have to worry about this, so I said I’d take care of it, but I haven’t been able to find a place big enough for all of us, and when she asked, I couldn’t exactly tell her that…” He felt guilt heavy on his chest when he remember how relieved she’d looked when he told her it was all taken care of.

“Look, what’s this?” Taehyung picked something up off the ground.

“It’s Avi-yah’s notebook.” Namjoon took it from him, smiling as he recognized it as one of the many he’d bought for her over the years. He started flipping through it.

“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy, hyung?” Jimin commented.

Namjoon’s smile turned sheepish. “I don’t think she’d mind.”

“She’s always writing in there,” Yoongi said, leaning over to get a look. “What does she write?”

“Um, everything.” Namjoon skimmed over cartoon doodles in the margins and hand drawn marketing graphs. “Our schedules, research on hip hop groups…” He smiled, pointing. “Look, she looked up both the international artists I suggested, and the underground local artists you suggested.”

Yoongi smiled slightly, shaking his head. “She does work hard, that one.”

“Right?” Jin agreed. “She’s only been here for a few years, but she’s already basically fluent in Korean.”

“Still, I bet she misses home sometimes,” Hoseok thought. “Did she seem happier when she was there, Jungkookie?”

“What?” Jungkook flushed. “Um, well, she seemed pretty happy, but she didn’t actually grow up in LA, so, I don’t think that’s… I think she was just happy to be able to speak English so much again, and to see Jenny-ssi.”

Hoseok grinned. “If you and Avi-yah’s little sister get married, maybe she’ll come live here too, and Avi-yah will be happier, and your older sister!”

Jungkook tilted his head. “I wouldn’t mind…” He waved his hand. “Not that I’m saying I’d want to marry Jenny-ssi—we’re not even really dating at this point, more like pen pals?” They all laughed. He huffed. “Anyway, we’ve got off track, we were talking about Aviva-noona.”

“I wouldn’t want her to be my older sister,” Taehyung said quietly.

“I wonder if this is really what she wanted—to manage a group of trainees like us?” Jimin said more loudly as Namjoon gave Taehyung a funny look.

Namjoon flipped through the pages, frowning at the color-coded blocks.

“Hey, Jimin-ah, did you know about this? Is that why you told her not to overwork herself?” He held up the schedule.

“Oh yeah.” Jimin grimaced. “I saw something like that the other day, when I was borrowing a piece of paper.”

“Speak to groups about getting members as featured artists and backup dancers, listen to lectures, hire instructors… and this is all after supervising our practice. How is she doing all of this in one day?” Namjoon shook his head. “When does she have time for sleep?”

“She needs to take better care of herself,” Yoongi thought aloud. Namjoon snorted. Yoongi frowned at him. “What?”

“Are you really the one to be saying that?”

Aviva rushed into the practice room, having gotten the keys from the janitor, after explaining she forgot an important notebook inside.

She felt around the wall for the light switch, but couldn’t find it. She let out a huff of frustration and used her cellphone light instead. She squinted her eyes at an oddly placed plant. Then she heard movement and squeaked, nearly falling over.

“Yah, careful!” A familiar voice called out. Aviva froze up as she felt the warmth of someone’s arms around her, holding her up. “The floor is hard.”

She shivered at his breath in her ear. “…Yoongi?”

“Wow, nice catch!” Another voice said.

“Taehyung-ah?” Aviva recognized his voice as well. She blinked as the lights flickered on. Jungkook and Jimin popped out from behind the suspicious plant Aviva had noted earlier.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook wondered.

“Are you alright?” Jimin asked concernedly. “Manager-nim, are you hurt?”

“I’m, I’m okay,” she said a little shakily. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jin came over. Namjoon looked at Yoongi and Aviva and frowned. Hoseok looked back and forth between them and then smirked. “Thanks, Yoongi-oppa… you can let go of me now.”

“Yeah…” He let go slowly, frowning at Taehyung. “Why’d you scare her like that?”

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that!” Hoseok agreed. Taehyung pouted, stepping closer to her.

“I was actually trying not to scare you—I thought it would be scary if I was too loud, so I was trying to be sneaky—are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure,” she told him. “It’s okay, Taehyung-ah, I just get a little jumpy sometimes.”

“Oh, so you don’t like horror movies?” Taehyung wondered, sounding disappointed.

“Sorry, not really.”

“You don’t have to apologize… I was just hoping we could watch one together.” He sighed, but then quickly recovered his usual charming smile. “What kind of movies do you like?”

“Action,” Hoseok said.

“Mystery,” Yoongi said.

“Fantasy,” Namjoon said. They looked at her.

“I like all of those,” she said.

Taehyung nodded. “We’ll watch one of those instead, okay?”

She blinked at him. “Okay, that sounds good.” She frowned. “Wait a minute, what are all of you doing here at this time of night anyway?” They looked around at each other nervously. “Huh…” She rested her hand on her hip. “It’s nice that you guys appear to be getting along again, but you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Um… I left something here,” Hoseok said slowly.

“Oh yeah?” Aviva said, doubtful. “What did you forget?” Hoseok rubbed his neck. Aviva frowned at the pain patch on his neck, spotting another one on his arm. “Seriously, guys, what’s up?” She looked around the room, spotting a few sleeping bags in the corner. Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’ve been sleeping here?”

“…I mean, it’s the first night for here for some of us,” Hoseok said, cheerfully raising his hand. He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “Though, we were… kinda… sleeping in the storage room before that…”

“…Fuck,” Aviva said.

“Yah!” Jin covered Jungkook’s ears. Jungkook shook him off, grumbling.

Taehyung grinned. “Manager-noona, I’ve never heard you curse before.”

“Yeah, I taught her,” Namjoon said, smiling proudly.

“This is all my fault,” Aviva said, rubbing her temples. “I’m so sorry, Joonie, I shouldn’t have left this all on you. I knew finding a big enough place nearby would be difficult, so I should’ve checked in.”

“Why didn’t you?” Yoongi wondered.

“I’ve been distracted,” she admitted. “But that’s no excuse.” She bowed. “I apologize, it was my responsibility to find you a place to live, and I didn’t.”

“Aw, manager-nim, no need to be so formal,” Jin said, patting her on the back.

She straightened up.

“Right.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Wait!” Namjoon called after her. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to find you somewhere to stay—and someone to stay tonight right away!”

“But you’re busy already,” he protested.

“Gone already.” Yoongi grimaced. “She’s quick.”

“That’s why I didn’t want to mention it to her,” Jungkook said, sighing.

Jimin smiled. “I think we’re in good hands.”

“Right?” Taehyung held his hands over his heart. “I’m touched.”

“I found a temporary spot,” she said, later that night. “The commute isn’t bad, and you’ll have access to a backyard, and the living room and kitchen are a little bigger than the last place, but it’s still a one bedroom so you’ll still have to share.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind!” Taehyung said happily, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest. “We’ve all slept in the same room before. I’m just happy not to have to sleep on the hard floor!”

Aviva shook her head.

“About that, Tae… it isn’t fully furnished either. I got them to throw in two and a half couches—“

“Half a couch?” Jungkook wondered. Hoseok elbowed Jimin.

“That’s for you, little Jiminie.”

Jimin scowled at him.

“So some of you can sleep on those,” Aviva continued, ignoring them. “But I couldn’t find seven beds on such short notice.” Taehyung’s face fell. “I’ve got two sets of bunk beds.”

“Even just that is impressive in a couple of hours,” Namjoon thought.

Taehyung nodded slowly. “…A couch is still better than the floor,” he decided.

“Yeah, at least bring a sleeping bag next time, dummy,” Yoongi muttered.

“Ah, Yoongi-yah cares so much,” Jin said, slapping him on the back. Yoongi frowned at him. Aviva smiled slightly.

“Anyway, I’ll text you guys the address, so feel free to meet me there.”

“Where are you going, noona?” Jungkook wondered. “Don’t you have a lot of other things to do tonight?”

“I finished the meeting, so I’ll postpone the other things,” she said. “The temporary unit I found doesn’t have any food, so I thought I’d grab some groceries for you.”

“We can do it,” Jin said. “Don’t worry, just continue on with your normal schedule.”

She bit her lip. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure,” Jin said. “I can make a dish out of anything, I’m not just a pretty face you know.” She laughed. He grinned at her.

“And I like grocery shopping,” Taehyung commented. “It’s like a treasure hunt!”

“Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

“Before you go.” Namjoon held her notebook out to her. “Don’t forget this again.”

“Oh.” She smiled at him. “Thanks, Joonie.” She waved and hurried off again.

“Thanks, Joonie,” Hoseok imitated in a high-pitched voice. “Hmmm… tell me again why you haven’t asked her out?”

Namjoon flushed slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. “What, you mean, besides the fact we could both lose our jobs?”

Hoseok nodded. “Yeah, besides that. People do break the rules and get away with it, you know. If you decide the risk is worth it…”

Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck. “Is it? I mean, we’ve both been working so hard for this debut, should I really throw it all down the drain just because Aviva-yah is so…?” He waved his hands inarticulately.

“Cute?” Taehyung suggested.

Namjoon frowned at him. “That she is!” Hoseok agreed cheerfully. “But Joonie’s acting pretty adorable right now also.”

“Shut up,” Namjoon muttered. “Anyway, even if I’d be willing to risk it, there are other people involved, Hoseok-ah and Yoongi-hyung especially, I wouldn’t want to ruin all your hard work.” Hoseok nodded, thumping him on the back.

Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“Let’s just go to this new place and get some sleep.”

#bts #fanfiction #bts x oc #ot7 x oc #bts predebut #idolverse #manager!oc #bts world #ot7 #my fics #hey you what's your dream

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themusicplayedherlife · 4 years ago

Text

Only a Drink

Fire Meet Gasoline

pairing: dick grayson x pyro!meta-human!reader

characters: dick grayson; reader; oc friends; mentions of dinah lance and oliver queen

word count: 1.4k+

warnings: angst, drinking, allusions to sex

a/n: this was supposed to be a sexy/angsty story based on don’t by loco and hawasa but my mind turned this into something completely different lol this is an installment for a Drabble series. drabbles/stories will be posted out of order but will be chronological on the masterlist—requesting for this couple will be much appreciated

It’s only a drink, you tell your college friends, ignoring their wolfish smiles and the suggestive words they tease you with. You roll your eyes, taking a sip of the drink the waitress had placed in front of you moments ago with a smile and a glance at the man sitting at the bar. You had tilted your glass in his direction and continued on with your friends like he wasn't there. But they couldn’t let it go (and neither could you).

“He’s obviously been watching you for a while if he was able to pick out your favorite poison,” your friend says, dark eyes gleaming with mirth that only grows when you briefly meet her gaze before looking away from her. Your eyes fly across the room, and you try your best to not meet his gaze from across the room, pretending to find the bottles on display behind the bartender interesting. “I say you go and thank him for the drink.”

“I already did,” you murmur, knowing the music playing in the bar would drown you out, but your friend sitting next to you laughs, having heard you perfectly.

“Properly,” she says, loud enough for Sareena to hear. “I usually wouldn’t entertain the thought of sending any of you off to a strange man to thank him for a drink, but he’s really hot.” Alani bites her lips, nudging your side with her elbow playfully. “He’s the exception.”

Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s gorgeous with raven locks swooping over his forehead; blue eyes that glimmer even in the darkness of the club; boyish, charming smiles that he flashes in your direction when he catches you staring. He’s flourished, grown into Bruce Wayne’s eldest and charming son, the one who would take after his adoptive father’s playboy image and maybe even the company, if he wanted it. But he didn’t, not fully. He didn’t become the younger version of Bruce Wayne like everyone expected. No. He grew into Dick Grayson, a man all of his own. A police officer at Bludhaven, working his way up to Detective, much to the dismay of the many socialites that would try to win his favor.

You were one of the few that had gotten the privilege of watching him grow. You wish you hadn’t been, maybe then you wouldn’t feel the way you do. Maybe then he’d be easier to let go.

“Fine,” you mumble, finally standing on your feet with the same drink in your hands, ignoring the hollering of your friends.

He watches you, blue eyes dancing under the amber glow of the bar’s lighting. They’re captivating, hypnotic, and you resist the urge to run to his side like when you were children.

“Dick,” his name falls from your lips dryly; the smile on his face grows.

“Sweetheart,” he answers easily, that sweet teasing voice of his the same as ever. He rests his cheek on his propped arm on the bar top, eyeing you carefully.

You swish the amber liquid in the small crystallized glass. “Thanks for the drink.”

“I owed you one.” He owes you much more than just one drink, you want to tell him, but instead you swallow the sour taste on your tongue and smile. “Join me?” His eyes flash with something hopeful, barely wavering under your slowly forming frown. “I just--its been a while you know? Since we’ve had the chance to be together.” Its a poor choice of words and he knows it, but he sticks to them, only looking away briefly to regain whatever composure he was trying to maintain.

Your breath catches in your throat as you register that familiar underlying tone in his voice. It’s heart wrenching—god, of course that’s what he wants. It’s all he’s ever wanted from you. Just one night. “I don’t know,” you pause to bite your lip. “I’m with my friends.” You gesture to them, who at least have some decency to pretend to be looking at anything but you two.

He chuckles, pools of blue locking you in place, refusing to let go of their hold on you, instead they drag you into their depth, threatening to drown you the longer you stay. That’s your third mistake of the night—staying. The first having been accepting the drink and the second having been walking over to him. “Doesn’t seem like they mind it.”

Your fourth mistake is rolling your eyes and settling on the stool beside him, ignoring the alarms going off in your head. He did that to you often, blindsiding you without trying to. “They could’ve been sending me off to a murderer and they wouldn’t have cared.”

His smile is crooked, lopsided, completely boyish—and proud, knowing that you’re capable of burning a man to a crisp if you really wanted to. He’s always been a fan of you--of your powers. “Good thing you can handle your own.”

“Good thing.” You hide your own smile by taking a sip of your drink. “What brings you back to Gotham?” You’d heard from the girls that he’s still moving between Bludhaven and Gotham, not completely able to give up the city he grew up in—or someone.

“Visiting Bruce and the rest of the family,” he answers simply, not divulging more information like he once would.

“How are they?” you ask out of courtesy, but unlike you and Dick avoiding each other, Bruce and Tim visit you occasionally at your studio, the two more often than not trying to recruit you. Sometimes Alfred stops by as well, dropping off meals he’d think you’d enjoy and scolds you if you’re not cooking proper meals for yourself.

Ollie likes to joke that it sometimes seems like they’re the ones that adopted you, not him and Dinah.

“The same as always,” he says tilting his head to your almost empty glass, raising an eyebrow as if to offer you another drink, you ignore it. “Bruce told me he spoke to you the other night.” He takes a sip of his own drink. “Said he’s trying to recruit you?”

You lean away from him and finish the last bit of the amber liquid in your glass, and hum. “Thinks I’m a good fit for Wayne Enterprises.”

“And you don’t think so?”

“Oh no, I do.” You scoff and he laughs. “But I’m weighing my options. I may not be living in Star City currently, but I still have Queen Industries to think about.”

“When did you become so calculating?” His voice is teasing, and you know he doesn’t mean it like an insult, but you bristle anyway. He should know why you’ve become so careful, so “calculating” as he put it.

Resentment finds root in your stomach as your eyes narrow, focusing on the colorful bottles in the back seemingly glowing under the candle like lighting, refusing to meet his gaze once more. “I’ve learned not to get ahead of myself anymore, learned to not risk my heart or future.” You cross your arms over your chest, nails digging into your skin. “If I can avoid the disappointment and the hurt when things don’t work out or shit hits the fan, I’ll gladly take being calculating over reckless any day.”

It’s a vague jab, but he knows—he knows you’re talking about him, because his smile falls from his handsome face and his knuckles turn white around the glass as he looks away from you for the first time since you sat down.

It’s scary. How you two can sit here after all the hurt and the pain, pretend like nothing happened, pretend you’re friends all over again, but as soon as you bring it up, you both shut down; refuse to acknowledge the elephant in the room, refuse to dredge up old feelings he decided to trash and bury.

You’ve never been good at communicating.

You trace the rim of the glass and sigh softly, all the energy you held on to escaping you with that simple exhale. Your core of fire extinguishing like if it were nothing, as if it isn’t a part of you. And maybe it hasn’t been. Not for a long time. “It’s just a drink,” you murmur, repeating your words from earlier. “But it’s never been just one drink with us, has it? One night, a drink too many.”

He doesn’t say anything, its not like you expected him to. He just sits there, jaw clenched, once glowing blue eyes dull and dark and refusing to look at you--just like that night.

You gently push the glass away from you and you hop off of the stool. “Send Barbara my regards.” And you walk away, leave your friends behind and Dick alone, never looking back, knowing he won’t come after you. Knowing he had made his choice that fateful night a year ago when he left you alone in the middle of the night, your tears soaking your pillowcase after pouring your heart out.

He left and you let him.

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #reader insert #young justice #young justice imagine #titans imagine

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shewritestheblues · 4 years ago

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The Elevator Bae x Chapter 1

Welp, I was hoping to recover chapters 1-8 but Tumblr is a hot ass mess with curls. So I’m reposting all of them. Here ya’ go my loves.

Chapter ONE

Erik x Black OC (Phoenix)

*NO WARNINGS*

Phoenix nods her head to the beat as Nipsey Hussle’s, Hussle & Motivate blast through her speakers. She’s learned to accept LA and all of its traffic. She’s officially been a Los Angeles resident for about a year now. She moved out here from Detroit. Phoenix packed all that she could fit in her small Chevy Cruz and drove the whole way. Life back home in Detroit was getting way too out of hand for her. Her friends didn’t really seem to support her dreams of being a DJ/Music Producer. Her family wanted her to go back to school and be something normal, like a nurse.

Phoenix worked her ass off with two jobs to fund her dream. Big Sean had heard one of her beats on her Soundcloud and reached out to her. That same beat was soon one of the top charting songs in the country. Artist were hitting Phoenix up left and right, wanting to work with her. Hustling her way into the industry, she was asked to DJ a huge party for Roc Nation in LA and the rest is history. After networking and making connections, she decided that staying in Detroit would hold her back. She didn’t even tell anyone that she was leaving… except her Mom.

She woke up one day and just left. She hasn’t looked back yet. Being in LA, she’s actually made a few genuine friends that not only supports her, but ride for her through thick and thin. They even staged a 4 day sleepover one time when Phoenix had an anxiety attack so bad, she couldn’t leave her apartment.

All in all, Phoenix could really say that she was happy.

-----

Phoenix sings along to every song has she moves her way through traffic. After an afternoon full of meetings, she finally reaches her apartment and turns down into the underground parking garage. Her favorite parking spot is open. As she steps out, she adjust her black leggings and cropped Harvard crewneck. She still sings along to the last song that played, Ari Lennox x BMO, now stuck in her head as she heads for the elevator‍.

A man ahead of steps into the elevator first. When he turns and notices her coming behind him, he holds the door for her.

When she looked up to say thank you, she wasn’t prepared for the man standing in front of her. This man… tall, the sweetest brown skin. His arms were definitely trying to break out of the sleeves of his burgundy fitted tee. His short dreads hung over his face, almost covering his eyes. She’s seen some fine guys since being in LA, but this one...he takes the cake.

“Thank...you”

“No problem.”

His voice… his fucking voice. It hit her like thunder. Has she ever heard a voice so damn sexy?

Then it hit Phoenix… jelly legs. She does her best to lean against the elevator door. The man pulls out a keycard and scans it. He must live in a penthouse. Only penthouse tenants had keycards.

“Which floor?”

“Uhh… Seven.”

The man hit the button for the 7th floor for her. As the doors shut, his cologne took the cabin hostage. It was a mix of Shea butter, cedar wood and vanilla. Phoenix hadn’t realized she closed her eyes as she took in his scent. But, he did. He released a low chuckle that took her from her trance. Her eyes shot open. She cleared her throat and tried to focus on a speck of dirt on her Chanel Slides.

The man opened his mouth to say something but before his words slipped, the elevator doors open. FLOOR 7. Phoenix internally panics, not sure if her legs would fail her. This really wasn’t the time nor place for this shit. She goes for it, rushing out. She made it but once she turned to walk to her door, barely out of site from the gorgeous man in the elevator, her knee buckles. She catches herself on the wall.

“Shit!” She slowly picks herself up, walking slowly to her door. The walk to the other end of the hall felt like 100 damn miles. She made it into her apartment. She drops her keys on the kitchen counter. She flops down on the couch. Dragging her sweaty hands over her face.

“Did I really just sniff this man? Did I really get caught sniffing this nigga?”

——-

The incident ran through her mind probably hundred times throughout the rest of her day. She managed to cook herself some dinner, shower and do a few loads of laundry. With each task, she would stop herself.

“I sniffed this nigga! What is wrong with me? I’m a creep.”

Her brain getting the best of her. She curls up on her couch. She had every intent to catch up on Steven Universe. Her schedule had been so busy that she has weeks of episodes to watch. But she couldn’t focus. All she could think about was this fine man. Why hadn’t she seen him before? And of course that just led back to her thinking about him catching her. She needed a distraction.

Instagram. She picked up her phone and scrolled down her timeline. Her homegirl, Ava, was all over the gram with her new photo shoot. Phoenix left a few comments.

YASSSS BITCH! GO OFF!

REAL HOT GIRL SHIT!

Phoenix continued scrolling. She found her way to her explore page. Liking a few pics of decor and food. And that’s when she saw it. Her ex, Justin, posted with his baby mama. Phoenix broke up with Justin the day before she moved to LA. That same day, she found out he had a baby on the way. That was the extra push she needed to just leave. Justin was her first everything. Her only real boyfriend and he did her dirty. She hadn’t really dated since then. She’d entertain a few of the industry guys that approached her but nothing ever happened. Her feelings were hurt instantly. Even though she had moved on and far away, that shit still stung like it was fresh. She locked her phone. When she needed a distraction, she ain’t mean that. Maybe making a beat would help.

She set up her mini, bootleg studio she created and got to work. It was so easy for her. This was her passion. She even wrote a few lyrics. Time was passing by and before she knew it, it was almost 2am.. she wasn’t surprised at all. She always worked best at night. She was in her zone so she didn’t wanna stop to go to sleep anytime soon.

Phoenix headed to the kitchen. She was going to need some good snacks to match this good creation session she was having. Opening her snack cabinet, she was met with a half eaten bag of plain chips and a pack of Oreos with ONE left.

“Ava is never staying here again. Eating up all my shit.” she says to herself.

She sent her friend a text, not caring that it’s late.

Phoenix: You owe me some snacks you hungry heffa.

Phoenix was determined to finish this night out strong by any means. Even if that means going to the store at 2am. She slid on her FENTY Slides. She refused to put on a bra so she threw on a Nike hoodie and headed out.

——-

The elevator seems to be taking forever. Who in the hell is holding it up this late? Phoenix starts to weigh her options. Tired of waiting, she debates whether she should just go back into her apartment.

DING

Letting out a deep sigh, “Finally!”

Looking up, she freezes. It’s him, sporting a black tank, basketball shorts, Nike socks and slides. He had small scars all over his upper torso and trailing down his arms. She is completely stuck, staring at him.

‘How far down did these scars go?’

The doors begin to close and the gorgeous man stops them with his hand.

“Are you gonna get in or just stand there?” he smiles.

‘HO MY GAWD! Is that gold in his mouth?

Phoenix slowly walks into the cabin. Arms folded over her chest, she stands in the front right corner. Ground Level already highlighted as their stop.

“It’s a little late for you to be out here by yourself ain’t it?” He asks.

Peaking over her shoulder, “I’m good.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, Phoenix could feel him burning a hole in her back with his eyes. She turns to make sure she’s right.

Of course! He’s staring right at her ass. She wants to say something but her words are trapped in her throat. He smiles at her, making her swallow them down and she just looks down at her feet.

“I’m Erik.”

her head snaps back. “Huh?”

“My name. It’s Erik.”

“Oh…Phoenix.”

The elevator doors open. Phoenix waste no time stepping out. Erik is right behind her. He taps her arm, making her jump. Erik was used to women being nervous and awkward around him. He knew he was fine and enjoyed watching women fold before him. He showed his pearly whites, dimples pooling deep,

“Get back here safe, Phoenix.”

Making sure to say her name slowly.

LORDT! The way he said her name made her stomach flip. This man was dangerous. She could tell.

“Uh, you too, Erik.”

She tried to match his tone saying his name. Not wanting to stick around for his response she turns immediately to go to her car. Getting in, she sits. She’s looking out between the rows of cars to see where he went. Some lights flash and soon after, a blacked out Acura NSX with red detailing along the sides, slowly drives by, in front of her. She pretends to not notice, acting as though she’s looking down. She starts her car and pulled out of her parking spot. There’s no traffic but Erik made sure to sit at the parking garage’s entrance until her car pulled up behind him before revving his engine and taking off.

Phoenix rolls her eyes, playfully. “This nigga extra as hell.”

But she knew she liked it. The butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t let her lie to herself. The short drive to the 7/11 up the street consisted of her wondering where he was going this late and curious to know he’ll be there when she got back.

#the elevator bae #erik x black OC #erik x phoenix #black panther fic #Erik Killmonger

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hettiesworld · 4 years ago

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Name of fic: She’s a Fire

Pairing: Jeremy Renner x female OC (Sydney)

Plot: Sydney is the sister of Paul Rudd and over the past years in the film industry, she has portrayed Bobbi Morse in the MCU. She has since appeared in CA: TWS, Endgame and now the upcoming Hawkeye series. She travels to Brooklyn, New York to start filming with Hailee Steinfeld and a few others.

Warnings: Moderate language, anxiety attacks, depression, fluff.

Author’s note: The faceclaim for Sydney Rudd is Daisy Ridley. Just pretend she has an American accent, like a New Jersey accent (or whatever Paul’s accent is). This happens quite recently as the set photos came out today or yesterday. This is only the first part. Second part is coming soon.

27th November 2020.

Sydney’s living room was kind of small. It was a rectangle shape just like most rooms in people’s houses. She had a painting of two dogs on the wall of her living room. The dogs walking in a field somewhere and it looks like an old painting but it is not. The walls was white but the window frames were dark red.

She had two big sofas. One was dark blue and the other was a mustard yellow made of some kind of soft fabric — She wasn’t sure what it was. But it was very comfortable. Sometimes she liked to lie on the sofa and listen to music or read a book. Her brother liked to sit in the armchair. He watched the news on TV then falls asleep. The coffee table was between the sofa and the TV. They put drinks on it and snacks they were eating. They also keep the TV remote on it. It was a wooden table but had a glass top so it was easy to keep clean.

Sydney was sitting on the dark blue sofa whilst Paul was in the grey armchair. The flat screen TV was playing some soap opera/reality TV shit as Sydney was on her phone, scrolling through Instagram.

Until the song ‘Barbie Girl’ blasted out of nowhere. Paul looked over to his phone and saw it ringing. The name ‘Hawkguy’ appeared on the screen and he answered the call.

“Yello!” “Hey, is your sister there? It’s me Jeremy. I got some news to tell her.” “Um... yeah of course. Let me hand you over to her.”

Sydney, during the call, went into the kitchen to get a snack. Some caramel covered popcorn from the cupboard.

“Sydney!!” Paul shouted over to her, covering the phone so Jeremy wouldn’t hear him shouting. “It’s for you!”

She came back into the living room, phone in her back pocket and already eating the popcorn from the packet.

“Brother, couldn’t you just move your butt out of that disgusting armchair and hand it over to me?” She remarked.

“Maybe I don’t want to. Now don’t leave him hanging and answer the call, so my credit don’t run out.”

Sydney sighed as she went over to him, her nose scrunched up at the stench of the armchair, and snatched the phone out of his hands.

“Hello?” “Sydney? Great news!” “Quickly tell me before my brother gets mad at me for using his phone for a long time.” “Well, you have been officially casted for the Hawkeye series as Mockingbird!”

Sydney was surprised at the sudden news.

“Wait what? W-when was it announced?” She stammered on her words. “About... 3 hours ago. Feige called me first so I could tell you.” Jeremy replied, sounding really exciting. He was probably in the gym, training after 6 years for the first Avengers movie. “Oh my God. When do we start filming?” “3rd December of this year. In New York. Make sure you arrive in Brooklyn.” “Okay, thanks Jeremy. I’ll see you then.”

She hung up and handed the phone back to her brother.

“So, why was he calling you?” Paul was smirking at her suggestively. Sydney gave him a look and put her hands on her waist.

“Seriously? It’s nothing like that! We’ve only been in one film together and that’s it.” Sydney retorted.

“Have you read the comics? You know about their relationship they have in the comics?” He mentioned.

“What, are you saying I should read the comics before I start filming?”

“Well yeah, but that’s not it. Let’s just say that Bobbi and Clint have an... interesting relationship.” Her brother trailed off.

“I know that already! But what has that got to do with it?”

Paul sighed and finally got out of his armchair, going over to a study which was combined with the living room.

He sat on the office chair and logged onto the desktop. He clicked onto Safari and searched up something. Sydney went over to him, looking over his shoulder.

“Look. There are some rumours going around that Laura is actually Clint’s brother’s wife. You know Barney?” Paul explained to her. Sydney nodded back. “And there is also the rumour that Clint may go back with Bobbi...”

“Yeah right.�� She rolled her eyes in response and scoffed.

Not to her brother’s knowledge, she was kinda hoping that the rumours were true...

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

3rd December 2020.

New York City is definitely a BUSY city. No matter where Sydney go, she could see confusion that never seemed to end. There seemed to be an endless amount of cars flowing through the streets and honking their monotone horns. Some of the vehicles were large trucks that seemed to add the never-ending noise generated by rest of the things around her. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry, not worrying about anything going on around her.

I just arrived at Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn. The underground terminal she was in reminded her of Underground Atlanta and had stores and shops lining the walls. As she walked by, she could smell all sorts of things. When she walked by the Starbucks Coffee, she could smell coffee and milk.

She was looking for the location on where she was supposed to meet the rest of the cast and crew of the series, especially Jeremy. She couldn’t wait to see him again.

Just then, she saw a cute Golden Retriever running towards her and knocks her to her feet. The dog would try and lick her, trying to nuzzle its nose under her mask.

“Oof! Hi there!” She greeted to the dog. She noticed that it only had one eye.

“Lucky! Get off her!” A voice called out as someone jogged up to her. The dog named ‘Lucky’ stepped back and sat down, panting.

Sydney stood up and brushed herself off.

“Sorry about that... Sydney?” The person went up to her and looked at her.

It was Jeremy.

“Jeremy!” She goes over to him and hugged him tightly.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been good! I don’t know why we are hugging, even though we shouldn’t be during this time.”

“It’s fine. We’re gonna be in one of those ‘bubbles’ that the government has been talking about. Like a work bubble. So hugging is fine.” Jeremy replied, smiling at her.

They pulled apart.

“We should get going. We have a meeting with the director. Shall we?”

Sydney smiled and nodded at him as he put Lucky onto his lead. He then reached for her hand. He rotated his palm parallel to hers and interlocked their fingers. Her heart began to race as soon as he started to hold her hand. He punctuated his point by rubbing his thumb in a circle on the back of her hand. She blushed as they walked to the meeting point with Lucky, treading in front of them.

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

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @archerybitch68 @dreamlesswonder86 @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @averyrogers83 @navybrat817 @carissime72 @sarabeth72

#jeremy renner x oc #clint barton #marvel #nbarnes #masterlist

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songtoyou · 5 years ago

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Chapter One: Move You

Would You Call That Love

Pairing: Chris Evans x Raina Morrison (OC) Rating: PG-13 (Will be 18+ for some chapters)

Description: There was always one person Chris Evans tended to turn to when he was not in a committed relationship, Raina Morrison. He could confide in her about things going on in his life that he did not feel comfortable talking to his family or close friends about. Chris and Raina were able to establish a way to communicate with one another openly but also being respectful of the other’s time and needs. It was the only constant “relationship” he had, but without all the nonsense of trying to build a life together. A “friends with benefits” situation.However, what happens when Chris starts rethinking his “relationship” with Raina and if either is willing to pursue something more?

Chapter Rating: PG

Warnings: Mention of anxiety

Word Count: 2,530

Note: This is the first fic I have written in ages. Everything about it is fiction. Sadly, I do not know Chris Evans and this is just a fictional take on his life. I do not permit this fic to be reposted on other platforms.

Thank you to @southerngracela and @sullyosully for the support. I also want to give a shout out to @royallyprincesslilly for the text divider.

*Updated for grammar edits.

June 2019

The early morning sun was peeking out of the sky, and the air became crisper after a night of pouring rain. It was supposed to be a scorcher day in June, according to the weather reports. That was not something Chris Evans was looking forward to since he would have to be on-set partaking in outdoor scenes wearing sweaters, business suits, and heavy coats for most of the day. Despite the uncomfortableness his job could be at times; it was all worth it in the end. Acting was Chris’s passion, and he was fortunate to do it for a living. Chris knew he was lucky to be where he is at in his career. From the ups and downs to disappointing film projects that either went nowhere or were rejected by critics and moviegoers, it all helped steer Chris to become the actor he is today.

With Captain America’s story arch now complete, Chris understood that it would take a while for audiences and some of his fans not just to see him as Steve Rogers. Taken on Marvel’s top Avenger’s mantle was one of the best decisions he ever made as it took his career to new heights. Yes, Chris had some reservations at first when he was approached for the role. He did not feel confident enough if he could handle the responsibility of playing such an iconic character. Chris was also worried about losing his anonymity. He liked being able to walk down the street with no one recognizing him or asking for a photo and autograph. Now Chris was lucky to make it a few blocks without someone yelling out at him or screaming “Captain America!”, it most definitely did not help ease his anxieties.

“You got that Marvel money saved up. You can live comfortably while pursuing projects that people would not expect you to take. It’s a win-win situation for you,” said Raina, one of Chris’s best friends, when mentioning the project, Defending Jacob.

“You sound like my mom when you say that,” Chris replied.

Raina laughed at that and said, “I take that as a compliment, you know.”

“Good. I meant it as one. You both don’t take shit from anyone. And I know you’ll always have my back as she does.”

Raina and his mom kept telling him to accept the lead role as Andy Barber in Defending Jacob. And how it would not only be beneficial to his career, but also because 1.) the show was filming in Massachusetts so that he would be in his own home every night, and 2.) it was a role he never played before: a father.

Sipping his coffee, Chris stood on the porch of his house as he watched Dodger relieve himself. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you some breakfast,” Chris waved Dodger over to get inside. The pup was happy to oblige his owner and trotted up the steps into the house.

Chris heard his cellphone buzz just as he put down Dodger’s food bowl. Reaching over the counter to retrieve it, Chris smiled when he saw the name pop up.

Raina: Why didn’t anyone tell me that New York is always hot as balls! I can’t take it!

Chris: I warned you about that, but you didn’t listen to me. What are you doing up so early?

Raina: Couldn’t sleep. Nervous about the preview shows for Moulin Rouge. It is coming up quickly.

Chris: Again, congrats on Moulin Rouge. You got nothing to be nervous about; you are going to be great.

Raina: I’m just worried if people will like the show.

Chris: You and the crew wouldn’t have gotten to Broadway if people weren’t interested in seeing it, especially with you as Satine. This is what you were born to do. Scott, Ma, and I will be there on opening night. Carly and Shanna won’t be able to come but plan to see the show on a girls’ trip to New York later in the summer. I know both are proud of you as well.

Raina: Stop! You are going to make me cry. All of you are so sweet. Seriously, I am forever grateful to you and your amazing family for supporting me all these years.

Chris: Can you believe it has been ten years since we met at that Vanity Fair photoshoot for West Side Story.

Raina: Oh God! Do not remind of that shoot. I was a ball of nerves that day.

Chris: I thought the paramedics were going to need to be called for you.

Raina: Haha. Seriously though, they probably would have if you didn’t help calm me down.

January 2009

“Wait, what is this photoshoot about?” Raina asked her manager, Jerry, who sighed in response.

“Raina, I’ve already told you. It is to celebrate the Broadway revival of West Side Story. The photographer is re-creating scenes from the film version,” explained Jerry.

Now it was Raina’s turn to let out a sigh. Despite being in the music industry since she was 16 years old, the whole idea of photoshoots still did not make her comfortable. Plus, the long hours, the bright lights, and the shoots’ craziness left Raina feeling drained. It was now adding other celebrities to the mix brought on a whole new set of anxieties.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” Jerry assured Raina and added, “Today’s going to be easy. You don’t have to worry about being front and center this time. You’ll be in the background so that you can relax.”

“If you say so,” Raina retorted with a small smile. She trusted Jerry.

When Raina finally arrived at the photoshoot, she was whisked away to hair and makeup and then onward to change her costume. She had already been introduced to her fellow photo mates, such as Ashley Tisdale and Robert Pattinson. Both were very pleasant and nice.

“I am such a huge fan. I have all of your albums,” Ashley gushed admirably.

“Thank you. That is very sweet of you to say. I loved your album ‘Headstrong,’ by the way. Such great bops,” Raina complimented, and Ashley’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

As the two made their way to the set, each shared what project they were currently working on until Ashley stopped dead in her tracks.

“What is it?” Raina asked, concerned.

“Chris Evans,” whispered Ashley and went on, “Chris Evans is over there.”

“Yeah, didn’t you know he’d be here? Oh my God, you guys didn’t use to date, did you?”

“Ha! I wish. He is just so cute,” Ashley said dreamily.

Raina just laughed and shook her head, “Yeah, he isn’t bad looking.”

They filmed the dance scene from the movie where Maria and Tony see each other for the first time. Camilla Belle and Ben Barnes were assigned the lead roles for the shoot. Raina had to admit; both looked the part. The photographer, Mark Seliger, gathered everyone around to discuss how the scene would go. He started placing people in their spots with Jennifer Lopez and Rodrigo Santoro in their positions as lead Shark dancers Anita and Bernardo, with Camilla and Ben on their respective sides. Ashley was assigned as a Jet girl dancing with Chris’s character, the Jets leader, Riff.

Raina hid her smile when Ashley shook Chris’s hand and introduced herself. Poor thing looked as if she could faint. Settled in the back, Raina was one of the Sharks. She was perfectly content where she was at standing next to Minka Kelly and Jay Hernandez. The three would even make little side chat here and there.

Overall, the photoshoot was going well. Until the bright lights, the loud music, and the uncomfortable costume started getting to Raina. She felt like she was going to pass out. However, Raina was determined to pull through in fear of being labeled a “diva” or, worse, “difficult” to work with; that was not the kind of press she needed now. Remembering what her mother told her to do when the first signs of an anxiety attack were coming on was to breathe in and out. She did that a couple of times as she closed her eyes when Mark said they were changing film and wanted a couple more shots.

Unsurprisingly, someone else was beginning to get restless during the shoot as well. Chris was not a fan of photoshoots. He always felt awkward and never understood what he was supposed to be doing. He would continuously worry if he were coming off stupid or looking like a fool.

Chris was more cautious of the types of photoshoots he would take part in and made sure to steer clear of the ones wanting him to be viewed as eye-candy merely. He was working hard to make a trajectory in his career from heartthrob to serious actor. However, Chris knew he had more to prove to audiences and critics for them to see past his ‘Not Another Teen Movie’ or ‘Fantastic 4’ roles.

Nevertheless, when he got word about Vanity Fair’s West Side Story photoshoot, Chris was immediately on board. He was a theater kid, after all, thanks to his mother. Similarly, with other shoots, it all starts the same. The photographer talks about the art direction of the shoot and expectations for the day.

During the short breaks on set, Chris looked around to see the other actors and performers. While he knew some of the folks on set, he did not honestly know any of them personally. The only person he was more acquainted with was Camilla, and that was because both filmed the movie Push a year ago.

As Chris’s eyes roamed around the room, they landed on Raina, who was fanning herself with her hands. While others were making small talk, he noticed that Raina took deep breaths and her eyes were closed. She stepped down on the chair she was standing on to take a seat and put her head in her hands.

Chris felt bad. He knew an anxiety attack when he saw one. Slowly making his way over to Raina, he kneeled in front of her.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chris asked in a whisper.

Raina jumped at the sound of his voice. She did not expect anyone to come up to check on how she was doing. She thought she was doing her best to be discreet.

“I don’t know. It’s too hot in here. The lights are hurting my eyes, and it’s hard to breathe,” Raina said, continuing to fan herself.

Instinctively, Chris reached out to hold one of Raina’s shaking hands to help calm her down.

“Have you ever tried the 4-7-8 breathing technique?”

Raina shook her head no and said, “Never heard of that technique.”

“Trust me; it has helped me out a lot. Okay, so you’re going to breathe in for four seconds, hold it for seven seconds, and exhale for eight seconds. Do you want to try it with me? Breathe in 1, 2, 3, 4. Hold 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and exhale 1, 2, 3, 4 ,5, 6, 7, 8. Very good. Let’s do it again,” Chris calmly instructed Raina.

“I’ll get you some water. Just keeping doing the breathing exercises, okay.”

When Chris returned, he again kneeled in front of Raina and handed her the water cup.

“Thank you,” said Raina as she sipped slowly.

“You’re welcome.”

Raina let out a little chuckle, “I can’t believe I had an anxiety attack. I told Jerry I was worried about this happening. Again, thank you. I appreciate you helping me out,” expressed Raina gratefully.

As Raina continued to sip her water, Chris took the time to look at her. She was attractive, and he could tell she was a little bit younger than him. While this was Chris’s first-time meeting Raina, he had seen her before at other Hollywood functions. Neither having their paths cross until now.

“Okay, folks, let’s get back in your positions!” Mark yelled to get everyone’s attention.

“You going to be okay?” asked Chris as he stood up.

“Yes. I’m going to be fine,” answered Raina, standing up as well.

Chris helped her back up on the chair, and he returned to his spot next to Ashley. It was weird. No one else seemed to notice what went on between the two. It was like for those few short moments, Chris and Raina were in their own world.

Chris kept stealing glances towards Raina for the rest of the shoot. He kept telling himself it was to make sure she was okay, not that he was drawn to her or anything.

‘Don’t go there, Evans. The last thing you need is to be in a relationship, and she doesn’t look like the type to do hookups,’ Chris scolded himself and added, ‘Most likely won’t ever see her again after this day.’

“I am glad that it didn’t take long for us to meet again after that day. We do have Scott and Shanna to thank for that, by the way,” Chris happily reminded Raina.

He decided to call her that morning after their text exchange. He preferred hearing her voice anyways.

“Oh yeah, at my concert in Boston. It was fate. We were destined to be friends.”

“Yep. Even though you are a fan of the New York Mets and Giants fan, I still love ya,” teased Chris.

Raina groaned, “Let us not bring up sports, shall we. It can only get ugly from here. Anyways, I’ll let you go. I gotta start heading out for rehearsals. Talk to you later. Bye,” said Raina.

“Bye, sweetheart. Take care,” replied Chris and ended the call.

He looked over at Dodger, who had finished eating and was now lying in one of his dog beds near the kitchen table. As Chris continued to sip his coffee, he decided to make breakfast and went to the fridge to take some eggs. Once he got everything ready to begin cooking, his mind drifted to Raina. Chris noticed that his mind had been doing that more recently lately.

For Chris, his relationship with Raina was more than just a friendship. She was someone he could confide in about things he was not comfortable bringing up to his family or close childhood friends. Their friendship evolved when both began a “friends with benefits” type of relationship. This would only occur when both were not in committed relationships with other people.

Surprisingly, this arrangement only managed to make them closer friends. The boundaries they agreed upon were put in place not to fracture their friendship. He went into the situation not wanting to build some domesticated life with Raina. However, at times, Chris kept thinking if he could turn his friendship with Raina into something more. Something more than friends, more than sex buddies, but as a life partner. A wife and mother to his children.

‘Stop lying to yourself,’ Chris’s inner voice spoke up, ‘You’re in love with Raina. Just admit it!’

Nevertheless, Chris could not admit to himself. He was not ready to deal with those feelings for one of his closest friends.

Not yet, at least.

#chris evans #chris evans x ofc #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x original female character #chris evans x oc

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karajaynetoday · 4 years ago

Text

everybody's got their demons, even wide awake or dreaming | part one

Photo credit: Jess Gleeson

Hello friends! Hope you’re having a lovely day wherever you are in the world. Thank you to everyone who voted in my little Google form thing on what they’d like to see me write next. Here’s Part One of my 5SOS x music journalist story. It’s a little angsty, and as the first chapter this is a lot of introduction to the OC and her story, but I hope you like it! It’s the first time I’ve written an OC into a fic, so I’d love to know your thoughts and if you’re interested in reading more about Lizzie and her adventures interviewing 5SOS.

Shout outs to @wheniminouterspace and @calumrose for helping me sense-check this concept, and @spicycal for giving me feedback on it in its draft stages. You’re all gems!

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: Fem!OC, minor swearing

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

Lizzie Lawson was having a bit of a day. Her train had been late, she dropped her coffee moments after receiving it from the cute barista downstairs (and broke her favourite keep cup in the process), and her work computer had decided to run updates the moment she sat down at her desk. Maybe she shouldn’t have bothered to get out of bed this morning.

Her colleagues were tapping away at their keyboards, answering phone calls, and discussing upcoming story ideas with each other - the usual tasks, especially for a Monday morning. Lizzie, computerless and caffeine deprived, had to settle for a cup of instant coffee from the kitchenette, and had taken to tidying up her desk while her computer was restarting over and over again but still somehow not ready for use. She was on the floor, sorting through the snacks in her bottom desk drawer (crackers that were two months’ past their expiry date, some gummy worms, and what seemed like hundreds of cans of tuna) when James, the music editor, stuck his head out of his office and called for her.

“Lawson! Where are you?” James sounded confused. He could’ve sworn he’d seen Lizzie at her desk moments ago, and then suddenly she popped her head up like a meerkat.

“Jimbo! Here. What’s crack-a-lackin?” Lizzie responded, standing up and brushing herself off as she headed towards where James was standing in his office doorway.

“Got a pitch for ya. Step into my office, if you’re finished with your spring clean.” James chuckled as he stepped back inside and sat down on the couch opposite his desk.

A number of journalism awards were displayed on the shelf above the couch, and the floor to ceiling window overlooked Sydney’s CBD and its tall, grey buildings, with a glimpse of the harbour ocean in the distance. Lizzie had to admit she’d imagined herself in James�� desk chair more than a few times; the music editor of one of Australia’s leading youth and pop culture publishing companies, regularly travelling the world to interview award-winning artists, and assigning and guiding well-crafted investigative pieces on the entertainment industry and those within in.

But, in reality, Lizzie had only recently worked her way up to being in the music department, after a couple of years on the news desk and a series of casual internships at different publications around the place. But music journalism, and the passion she had for live performances and watching artists grow and develop their sounds and aesthetics over their careers, was where Lizzie had always wanted her career to go. She was grateful to James for having her on the team, but she also knew that he didn’t recruit just anyone - so her writing must’ve been strong enough to get her here. James was a good boss, salt of the earth, always had his team’s back, but he was also a little mysterious, and this morning’s meeting was one of those where his face was giving absolutely nothing away as Lizzie joined him on the couch in the office.

“So, what’s up?” Lizzie said, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice.

“Well, Lawson. You’ve only been on deck for a few months, but turns out my gut instinct about you has paid off. That profile you did on the 1975 last month has gotten some good feedback and traction out and about.” James spoke in a measured tone, pulling his laptop off the coffee table and opening it.

“Oh! Well, that’s… good, right?” Lizzie still couldn’t figure out exactly why she was in James’ office. Or why she was so nervous.

“Correct, it is good. It’s been great to see you come into your own a little bit, and develop your interview style. I also really appreciated you stepping in to cover the Matt Corby interview for Hannah the other day, when she had that stomach bug.” James continued, seemingly searching for an email or something on his laptop as he spoke.

“No worries! Hannah’s notes were really thorough, plus I definitely had a Matt Corby phase when he was on Australian Idol back in 2006! Oof, that fringe, you know?” Lizzie cringed internally when she heard herself starting to babble.

James snorted, before clearing his throat. “I’m sure Matt was glad the 2006 hairstyle didn’t take up too many words in the final profile piece. He was pretty happy with it though, and his management were too, according to the label. So happy, in fact, that they’re requested you to profile another one of their artists.”

James had Lizzie’s full attention now, and she still couldn’t read his expression. “Really? Me? Who’s the artist?” She asked, trying not to get too excited too soon.

“Yes, indeed, you. 5 Seconds of Summer, or 5SOS. They’ve got a new album due out in a month or so, and their publicist is keen to fly you out to LA for a few weeks to follow them around while they wrap things up in the studio, and do a profile piece on their journey to date. Are you familiar with their stuff? They’re offering us an exclusive, something about the album being linked to their homeland or something, so they wanted to go with an Australian media outlet first.” James set his laptop back down on the coffee table and angled it so Lizzie could see an email on the screen that had a few lines of text and a photo of a band onstage.

5SOS. Was Lizzie familiar? Oh yes, she was familiar. Lizzie Lawson hailed from the western suburbs, and 5SOS was the area’s biggest success story. Aussie boys made good, with millions of albums sold, billions of song streams, thousands of concerts played all around the world, that was their career to date. But for Lizzie, 5SOS were always a bit closer to home. She’d attended the same high school as three of the band members, and Michael Clifford was someone she called her best friend, once upon a time. Ashton had also befriended Lizzie’s older brother Lachlan when they’d worked together at KFC. That was years ago now, and they’d all fallen out of touch, because sometimes that’s just the way the universe works. You grow up and you move on and you don’t keep the same friends, because sometimes they move to the other side of the world and get super famous as successful musicians. Or something like that. Even if they know your deepest secrets, or biggest fears, or hopes and dreams, or you trust them more than anything, sometimes they still leave you.

Lizzie’s previous state of intrigue quickly became panic, because what if she wasn’t actually being chosen based on the merit of her work? What if the 5SOS team knew about her connection to the band, and were going to use it to manipulate her writing in some way? What if it was all a ploy to get her and Michael in the same room so he could finally call her out on what had gone down between them all those years ago? What if -

“Lawson! You on planet earth still, or wait?” James snapped his fingers in front of Lizzie’s face to get her attention. She shook her head to clear it, and wrung her hands together in her lap.

“Yep, I’m familiar with their work. A little fuzzy on the most recent work, but I have a bit of knowledge on a lot of their early stuff. And Youngblood, of course. Everyone knows Youngblood. ARIA song of the year, a billion streams, etc etc.” Lizzie spoke, meeting James’ gaze as he cocked his head at her curiously. He knew Lizzie had a tendency to get a little nervous when she was put on the spot, but there was something about her right now that was a little more unsettled than usual that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Good. Well, if you’re down, the label will cover three weeks accommodation in Los Angeles. Labels don’t usually do that kind of thing, but their manager is super keen for you to get enough quality time with the band to build up a solid profile piece. We’ll cover your daily expenses, I’ll send you instructions for the claiming app, and then we just need your passport to get the flights booked. Sound okay?”

“Y-yep. Yes. Okay. Right. When would I be leaving?” Lizzie pinched her thigh through her jeans to double check that she wasn’t dreaming, and that yes, this was actually happening.

“Friday midday. We’ll put some feelers out in LA, and see if there’s any other interviews you can do while you’re there, but your focus will be on 5SOS because they’re picking up the bill for your stay. But that being said, don’t let that sway what you write. They’ve requested you because they like your deep, detailed, open style of profiling, so don’t be afraid to ask some curly questions to get the answers that will craft the right piece, you know?” James spoke firmly, looking pointedly at Lizzie who quickly nodded in response.

“Right, well, I’ll cc you into this email chain with their publicist and manager, and we’ll go from there. You can hand over your other pieces to Hannah, you’ll need to spend the next few days prepping for LA and doing whatever research you need to feel ready. You’ve got this, Lizzie. I know you can do a great job.” James was trying to be encouraging, as he stood up and opened the door to his office, but Lizzie’s heart was pounding with nerves and she barely hear his words.

She walked back to her desk in a daze, and Hannah had to literally poke Lizzie in her side to get her attention and ask what James had said in the meeting. A few excited squeals and a bear hug later, Hannah was off and running talking about lists of things Lizzie needed to organise before her international adventure was due to begin in a few days’ time. Lizzie, on the other hand, still couldn’t believe it. What the fuck was happening?

The next few days flew by in a haze of emails, life admin, last minute shopping trips and a lot of deep breathing on Lizzie’s part, and before she knew it, she was wrangling her suitcase out of an Uber and into the international terminal at Sydney Airport. Lizzie, as a generally anxious person, had arrived the full three hours early for her flight, but her parents had treated her to a flight lounge guest pass (because they wanted her to know they were proud), so she was able to deal with her nerves by eating far too many complimentary croissants and hash browns.

Soon enough, the time to board the plane arrived, and Lizzie was grateful that she ended up in an empty row of seats, by some miracle. Praise be to the airline gods, or whichever higher power had decided she’d be able to at least try and get some sleep in the next fourteen hours. She’d set her phone and watch forward to Los Angeles time, so she could try and adjust her body clock accordingly, which meant that she’d have to stay up for a few hours at least.

Lizzie tried to be productive, and tapped away at her research notes on her laptop for a little while, before she found herself opening up the band’s instagram page in her browser. The four men staring back at Lizzie through the screen seemed a million miles away from the gangly, excitable teenagers she’d known all those years ago. There was an interesting intensity about them in the photograph, steely gazes and defined bodies under carefully selected clothing, but there was also a peacefulness in their poses beside one another. Like being together, in this moment captured minutes before heading onstage, was the most natural thing in the world. Lizzie found her eyes drawn towards Michael; his dirty blonde hair swept across his forehead (not dissimilar to the style he’d had in their high school days, to be honest), and it was accompanied by some scruffy facial hair and a dangly cross earring in one ear. His grey-green eyes seemed to peer right into her soul, and Lizzie involuntarily shivered at the thought of seeing him again in person in a day or so.

She was still anxious about whether or not this entire thing was a scam, but nonetheless, she was going to try her darndest to be a consummate professional, and write the best profile story of her life. In her research, Lizzie had reviewed some previous 5SOS interviews, and she’d cringed her way through their Rolling Stone interview from many years prior. She remembered reading it at the time it was published, unable to believe some of the words attributed to the boys she’d once called her friends, and the intense aftermath that followed. Understandably, they’d avoided in-depth profile interviews since, so Lizzie was incredibly curious as to why they’d changed their mind. Why now? Why her? She closed her laptop and drifted into sleep, curled up across three airplane seats and tucked under a thin blanket.

Lizzie’s shoulders and neck were stiff when she awoke, an hour or so before her flight was due to land. She used the in-flight wifi to check her emails quickly, and noted a new one from 5SOS’s publicist Danielle, which welcomed Lizzie to Los Angeles and explained that she should catch a taxi to her accommodation at the address listed, and that she should give her a call once she was checked in. Right. That seemed straight forward enough.

LAX customs were intimidating as ever (god, Lizzie was so nervous), but Lizzie made it through without incident and was able to quickly make her way into a cab with a driver who seemed familiar with her accommodation address. They drove her to a boutique-looking hotel, and when Lizzie checked in and made her way up to her room, she was pleasantly surprised at how nice it was. A queen-sized bed, a good desk for working at, a nice view from her balcony of the Hollywood Hills, a small kitchenette with a fridge and microwave, and a glorious bathroom that had a very enticing bath tub in it (Lizzie’s shoulders and neck were already thankful for the idea of being able to soak in some nice hot water for a while).

After checking the room for serial killers (better to be safe than sorry, right?) Lizzie had a quick shower and changed out of her travel trackies and oversized hoodie into a pair of jeans, a clean shirt and a blazer, before opening up her phone and scrolling down to Danielle’s contact. A few deep breaths were required before Lizzie built up the courage to press “call”.

“This is Danielle!” A cheery American accent answered on the other end of the line.

“H-hi Danielle, this is Lizzie, from Junkee Australia. You said in my email I should give you a call once I was all checked in, and I am, so…” Lizzie found herself giggling nervously and facepalmed.

“Lizzie, of course! How was your flight? Long and boring?”

“Yep, that about sums it up!” Danielle’s enthusiasm made Lizzie feel like she had to perk herself up a bit in conversation.

“Well, I’m sure you’re gagging for a nap, but we’ve got to get you adjusted to the timezone so we can make the most of your time here. I’m just finishing up something in the office, but I can swing by your hotel in about 45 minutes, and we can go over your story pitch and the band schedule for the next few weeks, and figure out your interview time slots and other things you can go along to observe, if that works for you?” Lizzie could hear Danielle’s keyboard clacking as she spoke.

“Sure, well, you have my number now, so just text me when you get here. I’ll try my best not to nap in the meantime.” Lizzie’s somewhat dry response got a laugh out of Danielle, who agreed and bid her farewell, ending the call.

Placing her phone down on the bedside table, Lizzie looked around the hotel room that was set to be her home away from home for the better part of the next month, and spotted a coffee machine on top of the mini fridge. If she was really going to keep her no-nap promise, caffeine was definitely in order.

True to her word, Danielle arrived at the hotel within the hour, and soon Lizzie found herself sat beside Danielle on a fancy couch tucked in a corner of the hotel lobby. Danielle had opened up her laptop, and also pulled a plastic folder of documents out of her tote bag.

“Okay, so… I’m sure you’ve done your own research, but here’s a few hard copies of the band bio, album press release, and a few other tidbits from the label, along with a hard copy of the band schedule. It’s all confidential and coded, the electronic version I’ve emailed you will have the proper locations for everything, but I thought a print out might be handy anyway. The boys are recording some stuff at the studio Calum has at his house tomorrow, so I figured we could introduce you there and then after that figure out what else you’d like to get done. There’s an industry showcase for some of the new songs at the end of the week, and then they’re doing various promo and album prep things, finalising mixes, photoshoots, etc, so there’s a bit of variety for you. Any initial thoughts on how you want to do the interviews for your profile?” Danielle rattled off, gazing at Lizzie expectantly when she finished speaking.

Lizzie blinked at her a few times before collecting herself. “In my research, I found it really interesting to hear the band and some of the fans talking about how 5SOS has evolved into the collective effort of four individual artists, not just the band as one artistic music entity, so I was hoping, if possible, to interview them individually, as well as observing them as a group. Would.. Would that be okay, do you think?”

Danielle pursed her lips, before breaking out into a smile.

“I think that sounds exactly like something the band would be willing to do. Damn, Matt Emsell was right - you do know your stuff.” She chuckled, handing the folder of documents over to Lizzie and pulling out the schedule that was on top.

“So studio at Calum’s tomorrow from 10am, I’ll swing by and collect you so we can do introductions, I’ll stick around for a bit just to make sure you’re all good but otherwise I’m just going to let you do your thing. The band have been doing this for long enough now, they don’t need their publicist hovering.”

The curiosity was killing Lizzie. She couldn’t not ask.

“Danielle, I’ve got to ask this, sorry. Do the band… know me? Know that I’m the one coming to interview them?” Lizzie managed to get out, avoiding eye contact.

“What do you mean?” Danielle cocked her head to one side, clearly confused at the question. “I sent them the Matt Corby piece you did, and they liked that, so that was one of the reasons we asked you out here. So they’re familiar with your work, if that’s what you’re asking?”

“No, um… oh god, I’ve made this super awkward now.” Lizzie laughed dryly, wringing her hands together. “I mean, I know them. Personally. Or at least I used to. I’m from Sydney, and I went to school with Luke, and Calum, and… Michael. So I was just wondering, um, if they realised that it was me and that was part of why I was asked to come to LA for this…Not really sure why that would make them choose me, but I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page before tomorrow.” Lizzie finally dared to look up at Danielle, whose expression was unreadable.

“Hmm, well, that is interesting. As far as I know, that wasn’t a factor at all. We all genuinely liked your writing style, so whether or not the boys made the connection, I have no idea. They’re not super keen on any irrelevant personal life stuff making it into this piece though, so if this is going to be a problem for you, we should deal with it now.” Her tone was slightly less warm than before, and Lizzie could sense the protective publicist side of Danielle kicking in.

“Definitely not a problem. I entirely intend to be fully professional, and like you said, my writing will speak for itself. Just wanted to put it all out there. Not a problem for me.” Lizzie spoke up, willing herself to sound more confident than she felt.

“Good. We have no problems here then. I’ve got to run, but text me with any questions, otherwise I’ll see you at 9.30am tomorrow for the drive to Calum’s!” Danielle’s tone was nice and bright again, as she shut her laptop and gathered her belongings, patting Lizzie’s shoulder in what she assumed was some sort of attempt at calming her nerves.

It didn’t work though. Not a problem for Lizzie? Bullshit. Not a problem for 5SOS, and Michael in particular? Seemed unlikely.

Lizzie was worried she’d have a restless night’s sleep because of her overwhelming anxiety about the next day’s reunion, but the exhaustion from her travelling overtook her and she almost slept through her alarm. A quick shower and a shot of espresso later and Lizzie was downstairs waiting for Danielle to pick her up to head over to meet the band.

“Morning! How’d you sleep?” Danielle chirped as she rolled into the car park, her car window down.

“Very deeply, thank you! The room is really comfortable. Thanks again for organising.” Lizzie mentally urged herself to keep up the small talk as a way of hiding her nerves.

The car ride over was mostly quiet, but when they pulled up outside of what Lizzie assumed was Calum’s house, she definitely felt like she was about to vomit.

“Just so you know, I flagged our conversation last night with the band. About your pitch around the individual interviews, and also about your little… connection to them. Ashton didn’t seem to think it was a problem, so it should all be fine.” Danielle mused, as she opened her car door and hopped out. All Lizzie could do was nod, because her throat was dry and she was starting to panic. She blindly followed Danielle through the front gate and around the side of the house to a building in the backyard, Lizzie strained to hear what sounded like raised, male voices floating towards them as they approached. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it didn’t entirely sound positive.

Danielle knocked loudly on the door and shot Lizzie a reassuring smile, before the shouting subsided and it swung open. Calum Hood stood in the doorway, and Lizzie sucked in a breath. It’d been eight years, maybe more since she’d last seen Calum, and even then, had they spoken? She couldn’t remember.

Calum smiled at Danielle, and then his eyes flickered over to Lizzie, not quite carrying the same happiness, but not entirely losing it either.

“Morning, ladies. Welcome to casa di Calum, come on in.” He spoke with that scratchy, deep voice of his that Lizzie had reacquainted herself with when watching hours of interviews during her research.

Danielle stepped passed Calum into the room, and she indicated for Lizzie to follow, which she did. Lizzie could feel Calum’s gaze on her as she brushed past him, but the minute she stepped inside, any sense of warmth or welcome she’d felt before vanished.

Luke and Ashton were standing over by the sound recording panel, turning to look at Lizzie and Danielle as they entered. Lizzie thought she saw a hint of a smile on Luke’s face (they had survived Year 8 Maths together, after all… that had to count for something, right?), but Ashton was unreadable.

Entirely obvious, though, was the look of bitter disdain on Michael Clifford’s face when Lizzie finally spotted him hunched over on the couch along the wall. Those grey-green eyes were staring her down with a harsh glare. It had familiarity about it, Lizzie realised, but not in a good way.

Danielle cleared her throat in the silence, and turned to Lizzie.

“Well, I believe introductions might not be required, but in the interest of professionalism and courtesy - “ Lizzie didn’t miss Danielle’s pointed glance towards Michael, who was still scowling silently towards everyone - “Lizzie Lawson from Junkee, I would like you to meet Calum Hood, Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings and Michael Clifford, also collectively known as 5 Seconds of Summer or 5SOS.”

Lizzie waved, and then immediately cursed herself for being so goddamn awkward. She received a nod of recognition from Ashton, and small smiles from Luke and Calum. From Michael, more scowling. This was going to be a long three weeks.

“So, Lizzie, why don’t you go through the pitch for the profile that we discussed yesterday? The boys already have a bit of an idea, but I’m sure they’d love to hear it from you.” Danielle was being overly encouraging, but it worked, and Lizzie took a deep breath before speaking.

“Thanks, Danielle. And thank you to you guys, honestly. I know this is a little strange for all of us -”

“Fucking oath it is.” Lizzie heard Michael mutter under his breath, but she continued, undeterred.

“But, I’m really excited to have the opportunity to interview you and pull together this story. Especially on behalf of the Australian music media. I know they haven’t always given you the recognition you deserve, but I think this piece is a chance to overcome that. Anyway, the specific pitch I’d love to go with is reflective of you as individual artists, as well as the collective band group. If it’s suitable, it’d be great to have the chance to speak to each of you one-on-one as well as a group, to give a holistic view of your journeys as people and as musicians and what you’re trying to achieve with this album. So… yeah…” Lizzie trailed off nervously, clenching her hands at her sides.

“I love it. We’re happy you’re here, Lizzie. I really loved the Matt Corby piece Danielle sent us, and like you said, it was really important for us to have the perspective of an Australian journalist for this story and where we’re at right now.” Ashton’s calm voice broke the silence, as he nodded at Lizzie in agreeance. Luke and Calum nodded too, and Lizzie tried not to look towards Michael because no doubt he was still glaring at her.

“Great! Everyone’s on the same page. I have to dash off to a meeting, but Lizzie has my number if she needs it, otherwise all of you please behave and don’t scare her off, nor say anything that means I’ll have to destroy her tape recorder. Sound good? Good!” Danielle rattled off quickly, moving out the door and shutting it behind her.

The tension in the air was thick, and it was all seething from Michael’s direction towards Lizzie. She closed her eyes for a moment, before reaching into her bag and pulling out her phone, notebook and pen. She spotted a chair behind her, and turned back towards Luke and Ashton.

“Well, where do you want to start? A group sit down, some general thoughts on the journey so far and what the album experience has been like?” Lizzie offered, trying to make herself sound enthusiastic, but also in control and like she knew what she was doing.

Luke, Calum and Ashton all murmured in agreeance, and moved themselves over to sit by Michael on the couch, while Lizzie dragged the chair she’d spotted over to sit facing them.

“Right. All good if I audio record this?” She asked, hitting record on her voicenotes app after three heads nodded at her.

“So, the album. Where did it begin? Did anyone or anything influence or kick off the sonic direction or the start of the exploratory process?”

The conversation was flowing quite well, Lizzie though. Ashton dominated most of the responses to her questions, but Luke and Calum chipped in their perspectives throughout. Michael didn’t say a word, even when Calum poked him in the side, and instead of glaring at Lizzie he was now staring blankly at the wall over her shoulder. An improvement, sort of, but still not ideal from a journalist and interviewee perspective, let alone when the interviewee was someone who used to be Lizzie’s best friend.

Before she knew it, an hour had past, and Ashton stood, remembering a meeting they had scheduled with the label and their management team, and bringing the interview to a close.

As Lizzie was packing up her equipment, she cautiously brought up the topic of the one on one interviews.

“So, does anyone in particular have free time in the next few days, so I can start on the individual profiling part of the story?” Lizzie asked, her tone hopeful.

Michael’s response was to push straight past her and walk out of the studio, muttering to himself and slamming the door as he went. The loud noise made Lizzie flinch, and she realised her heart was racing and her hands were a little shaky.

“I’ve got time, LL Cool J. I’ll meet you at Joan’s on Third for lunch, say 1pm?” Lizzie smiled at the pld nickname Calum slipped into his quiet response to her question.

“Works for me, C Dizzle Swizzle. Thanks again for your time today, I really appreciate it. Not to sound like a broken record, but I’m really excited for this piece and the chance to tell your story.” Lizzie found herself grinning like an idiot as she met Calum’s warm gaze, and noted that Ashton and Luke were also smiling at her.

“We’re excited too, Lizzie. Even if… some of us might not quite be as enthusiastic as they should be. But, don’t worry. He’ll come round.” It was Luke that spoke this time, his striking blue eyes somehow staring straight into Lizzie’s soul as he looked at her.

“Here’s hoping.” Lizzie tried not to sound too dull in her response, but it was a challenge.

Because honestly, how the fuck was she going to do a profile on all four members of 5 Seconds of Summer, if one of them could barely stand being in the same room as her?

Time will tell, Lizzie thought to herself as she walked out of the door to Calum’s studio and into the warm California sunlight. Time will tell.

Taglist: @suchalonelysunflower @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @loveroflrh @spicycal @notinthesameguey @metalandboybands

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#5sos imagine #5sos fanfiction #my writing #ashton irwin imagine #luke hemmings imagine #calum hood imagine #michael clifford imagine #5sos blurb #ashton irwin fanfiction #luke hemmings fanfiction #calum hood fanfiction #michael clifford fanfiction #whew this is the longest thing i've written so far #hope you like it #it's fine if you don't tho #the posting anxiety is REAL omg

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