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phykios · 3 years ago

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If I Were A Blackbird, part 3 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

[ID: Picture of an attractive man with brown skin and black hair in front of a blue ocean. Only his face and hand are visible. His hand holds up his index and middle fingers in a peace sign, his face is hidden behind a pair of navy sunglasses with the letters USA printed across the bridge

Instagram caption: per_sea_jackson: Officially in Mérida. Let the games begin.]

Percy had been all over the world: for sailing, for Instagram, for the fact that Luke loved to travel and didn’t have many friends to travel with. Percy hated flying every single time, and was known to spend extra time on a boat to avoid it if he could, but he loved getting there. Being new places and exploring them.

Growing up in Westport had in many ways been a dream. The big white house with the perfect backyard, Luke and his mom and May. His mom used to talk about good schools and safe neighborhoods, and all the other things people moved to Connecticut for.

But being the only kid in class who wasn’t white, there had been a lot of nasty, mean comments about his mom being a maid (which wasn’t true). And then, in middle school, he started excelling in all the WASP sports: sailing and crew and fencing and horseback riding of all things, all while Luke had gone off to college, after a decade of Luke having his back. It had given him a rather homogeneous view of the world, and not a pleasant one, one that Yale, despite its best efforts, did not really do much to dispel. But the world was vast and strange and amazing, as wide and weird as his own insane family tree. Percy was reminded of that every time he stepped off a plane, or his preferred boat.

It was a crazy, comforting thought.

“Percy! Hey!”

And speaking of family…

“Hazel!” Percy wrapped his cousin up in a big hug, twirling her around, blocking traffic in the middle of the Mérida airport. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“There was an announcement and everything,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him. “I guess dressage isn’t sexy enough to make the news.”

His dear cousin Hazel was one of the youngest equestrian athletes to ever be on Team USA. The two of them had bonded near-instantly over their shared affinity for horses and gently bullying Nico to eat more, and no one had been happier than Percy when she had been accepted onto the Olympic team. She had originally only been an alternate, and wasn’t sure if she would be coming, but already her presence was combating some of his nerves. It was going to be so amazing to have someone here in his corner from the beginning.

“Do you need help with your suitcase?” he asked.

She shook her head. “It’s all taken care of.”

Percy whistled. “The di Angelo express, huh?”

“You know it!” She took his hand. “Come on, let’s go get a cab to the village.”

They cruised through the city, Percy pressing his face to the window to better see the white buildings, the heat rising off of the tarmac, and the international flags fluttering against the clear blue sky.

Mérida. Was. Amazing.

And hot. Goddamn.

Even just taking a quick stroll through the center of town, he was absolutely drenched in sweat. Ducking into a local shop down the road from the Monumento A La Patria (and holy crap, they were going to have to come back and see that at night!) for a bite to eat, Percy collapsed into his seat, fanning himself furiously with one of the tourist pamphlets Hazel had swiped for them. He was even seriously considering taking his shirt off.

“We should definitely check out the cenotes,” Hazel said, reading her own brochure, turning the page to him. “Just look at this water!”

“How the hell are you not a puddle right now?” Percy asked, panting.

She made a face at him. “I’m from New Orleans. Not my fault you can’t handle a little humidity.”

“This is not humidity! This is–this is torture!”

She snorted, looking out at the passers-by through a line of brightly colored shrubbery. “Damn yankee,” she muttered.

Percy’s eyes narrowed. “You take that back right now.”

“I’ll consider it if you buy me lunch.”

He grumbled goodnaturedly, already pulling out his phone. “You’re lucky you’re so damn cute.”

“That’s me,” she said. “The cutest cousin.”

“Undoubtedly. How is Nico, by the way?”

She smiled, taking a drink from her water bottle. “You’re the one who bullied him into going to your alma mater for school. Shouldn’t you know?”

“That was Luke,” Percy pointed out. “And it's summer. Didn’t you guys just get back from that sibling trip to the homeland? And I have to be honest, I have no idea what he did when you guys got back from Italy.”

Hazel’s nod meant he did actually know what Percy was talking about. “He’s well. Dad has him running ragged with work, but he was able to take some time to get me here.”

“And that was the first time he saw sunlight in months, I’m sure.”

Gently, she laughed. “You’re not wrong. But you know I have almost as much trouble with flying as you do. And I don’t even have a boat as an out. So I have to rely on fatherly and fraternal support.”

“You could have ridden your horse here.”

“Ha ha.”

After Luke, Percy was sure he had had his fill of cousins. But after they had discovered Nico and his sister in Las Vegas during a truly insane road trip when Percy was a kid, Percy had found he quite liked the little nerd, weird and broody and emo as he may be. And then, a few years later, when Nico had called them up in a panic, awkwardly explaining over the phone how he had accidentally unearthed his half-sister, Percy and Luke were honorbound to welcome her into the family.

Well, Percy was. Luke, preoccupied with grad school, had blown him off a little–but not before Percy had guilted him into sending enough money for food and transportation. Stingy bastard.

He hadn’t seen her since November, when she and Nico had come for Thanksgiving. She was a junior at Tulane (a choice Luke took pretty personally because getting family members into Yale was his second favorite hobby after crypto) and she and Nico had gone on some backpacking trip through California during Christmas break, and then to Italy at the start of the summer. An ironic juxtaposition, as Luke had taken the Jackson-Blofis-Castellan family to Paris for Christmas, and Percy had spent early summer training in California. It was so good to see her now.

Hazel wiped her mouth, gently setting down her napkin. “So. Percy.”

Percy swallowed. “Come on.”

“You’re not getting out of this conversation.”

“What, is my mom paying you to talk to me?”

She raised her hands, a placating gesture. “She just wants to make sure you’re doing okay. We all do.”

“Well, I haven’t exactly had time for dating,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Training and such.”

“You can’t tell me you spend that much time training.”

He huffed. “I spend the perfect amount of time training!”

She gave him a long, thoughtful look, then bites into a plantain chip. “What you do spend is too much time with Luke.”

“I don’t think that’s the dig you want it to be.”

Hazel sighed, a deep, long, drawn out thing. It reminded him of his mother. That was both a compliment and a pretty harsh take down. “Percy, I love Luke. He’s the douchey, white, older cousin I never wanted but will still send me money any time I ask. And you could certainly do worse for friends.”

Percy frowned. “A hell of a lot worse,” he said. “We’ve been through a lot.” Luke had saved his life, on more than one occasion. He bore the scar to prove it. Letting go of that loyalty was hard.

“I know,” she said, placating. “I’m not saying ditch him. He’s always going to be your cousin and your big brother. But I think I have a much stronger reason to hang out with just Nico than you have to hang out with just Luke. Even I managed to put myself out there a little bit. You could stand to expand your social circle a little. Include some other boys, maybe. Or girls.”

“I’ve met girls!” He was not pouting, but you wouldn’t know it from the way Hazel snorted at him.

“Uh huh.”

“I have! I even have girl friends!”

“Such as?” She rested her head on her hand, eyes glinting at him.

Mentally, he flipped through his rolodex. “There’s you. Obviously.”

“I’m touched.”

“Thalia. Um, Rachel. Uh…” Oh, come on. He has to have more female friends than that!

“So,” said Hazel, not even trying to hide her grin, “your three closest female friends are your two cousins and your high school almost girlfriend?”

Percy groaned, tilting his head back. “Okay, okay. Point taken.”

“Just think about it, okay?” She touched his hand, squeezing his fingers. “You’re such a wonderful guy. And you know I love Luke. I really do, but come on. There's a reason that he’s always begging me and Nico and you to come and hang out. It’s because otherwise his only social activity is hanging out with Estelle–a seven year old–pining after your mom,” that earned her a light punch in the shoulder, “or going clubbing with his co-workers. And he only hangs out with his co-workers to run crypto schemes.”

He squeezed back. “You know he knows those are cons, and just does it because he thinks the people he works with are assholes, right?” Luke and Hazel’s speculation arguments were legendary. “He doesn’t actually keep any of his money in crypto. Or any of ours. You keep way more money in gold.”

“You know that’s not the point,” Hazel said, “and gold is an old fashioned, stable speculation.”

“For the record, I do meet girls.” Automatically his hand went to his pocket, slipping out his phone to see if he had a new text message. He didn’t, but there was no harm in checking. “There was this girl I met just before I left New York.”

She leant in. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” A quick flash of golden hair and silver eyes crossed his memory, accompanied by a bright, sparkling laugh, like champagne.

“Any details you want to share?”

“She was an architect,” he said, “and she was beautiful.” There were plenty more details than that, but the gulf between ‘want to share’ and ‘going to share’ was wider than the distance from here to New Orleans. It had only been once, anyway: one night and one text. Hardly met the criteria for an ongoing relationship.

But still. There was something about that girl that he couldn’t shake, even a few days later.

“You’re smiling,” Hazel said.

“Hm?”

“You’re full-on grinning.”

He was, to his shock. He could feel it in his cheeks. “So? I like smiling.”

“You? Mr. Resting Bitch Face?”

“Me,” he replied, lightly kicking her ankle under the table. “I’m only smiling because you’re here, anyway.”

Hazel beamed at him, and he couldn’t help but match it, tooth for tooth. “Then you better start practicing when I’m not around. You’re going to need that smile for the podium.”

Lifting his water, he saluted her, and they knocked their plastic bottles together. “I’ll drink to that.”

***

The only thing worse than a fancy state dinner was a fancy state dinner that was ostensibly for her but wasn’t actually about her at all.

It was supposedly her birthday dinner, but you wouldn’t know it by the food. Or the company. The last thing she ever wanted on a day meant to celebrate her was to be stuck between her stepmother and her brothers, disinterestedly twirling pasta around in their forks while her uncle stood at the head of the idiotically long table, speaking boring platitudes about history and pride and the future of the family.

The food was fine, but nothing that counted as a particular favorite. The salad course didn’t even have olives. But she ate it gratefully, as she was meant to.

There were two hundred people here, and she knew about twelve, and liked and was liked in turn by maybe two of them. And Magnus was on the other side of the room, so unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough to claim her for the first dance.

At least it was just a waltz. The dancing was vestigial anyway, a holdover from a more formal time. Now Annabeth was light on her feet when she needed to be, but dancing was not one of those times she needed to be. Her partner, some higher-ranking member of parliament, politely pursed his lips as she stepped on his foot, and she could feel the back of her neck heat up, exposed to the room by her updo.

Just focus, she thought to herself, biting the back of her tongue. One, two, three, one, two three…

Every eye was on her as she moved about the ballroom, passed around between dignitary and celebrity and back again. With as much brain power as she could spare, she occupied her time by cataloging any stray details about her partners. Height, eye color, hair color… any male pattern baldness. You know, for reasons. “Princess,” her next partner greeted her, dipping his head. “How are you enjoying this day?”

“Very well, thank you,” she replied, automatically. An older man, his grip on her waist was just a little bit too tight, and his breath stank of onions. “And you?”

He had a number of medals pinned to his sash. What the hell was his name again? “A wonderful dinner,” he said.

There was not much more conversation after that.

Her next partner was shorter, but younger, with floppy brown hair and blue eyes. In her heels she was taller than him by a few inches. “Princess,” he said, his smile mischievous, eyes glinting. Annabeth was not sure she liked it one bit.

She smiled tightly back at him.

And then he looked down at her cleavage.

She sighed.

After the pig, she was whisked around to other dignitaries and members of state, before Magnus grabbed her, skillfully pulling her out of the sweaty hands of a rather infamous junior minister who enjoyed copping feels, and waltzing her away. “Oh thank all the gods,” she said. “I was getting real sick of being felt up by random government workers.”

“No problem,” he said, “but I’m actually here on reconnaissance.”

“What?”

“I have orders to transport you to someone else.”

“Huh? Oh–!”

And then he spun her into the waiting arms of her father. He stumbled a little bit as he caught her, nearly bowling over an elderly lady with white hair, dressed in a salmon taffeta storm who gave them the stink-eye before realizing who, exactly, she was stink-eyeing.

“Hello, dear,” her father grinned at her, bashful.

“Dad,” she said, her eyes still swimming a bit.

“I apologize for the ambush,” he said, “but I haven’t gotten to speak to you all day. How are you?”

She’d been in the country for two days already. If he wanted to get her alone, he had had ample time to do so beforehand. “Fine.”

“You look lovely tonight.”

Helen had picked out a light blue gown for her, with a sweetheart neckline that did absolutely nothing for her cleavage and sleeves that itched around the armpit. “Thank you.”

“Did you enjoy dinner?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, good. Had a good flight back?”

“I did, yeah.”

Out of questions, he fell silent. They danced in awkwardness for a minute or two.

“When are you heading to Mexico?” he asked.

“In about a week.” And not a minute too soon.

He frowned a little. “I see.”

“Is there something wrong?”

“I didn’t agree that you were the best person from the family to send.”

That… stung. “Sorry you were overruled,” she said.

“What? Oh, no, I don’t–I didn’t mean it like that.” The music, some generic classical string quartet, came to an end, the dancers politely applauding the musicians. Annabeth joined in, her soft white gloves making almost no noise.

“Well, I already got tickets to the games. You can cancel my hotel if you want; I can find my own way.”

“That’s not–” He cut himself off, taking her in his arms as the music started again, leading her off to the side of the ballroom. “What I meant was,” he said, softly, “was that you’ve been working so hard lately. I thought you might want to take the summer to relax a little. Here.” Almost bashful, he turned away to grab a couple glasses of wine from a nearby waiter. Annabeth almost missed his last few words. “With us.”

“Oh.” Hard pass. “I… I can’t just take the summer off anymore, dad. I got a few weeks for the Olympics, but I have a few projects in the works back in New York that I need to get back to as soon as I’m done.”

His brow furrowed, he nodded. “I understand. Do you need any–?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she said. She didn’t even know what he was going to ask. “I’ve got everything I need.”

He nodded again. “Good. That’s good.”

They stood together, watching the dancers for a while. It reminded Annabeth of a movie, almost, some kind of pretentious costume drama where all the men spoke of war and all the women connived to get their daughters on the throne, where everyone was having sex with everyone else and alliances were decided on the flip of a coin. She always used to hate those. There was never any strategy to them, just whatever shock value the writers could come up with.

“After the Olympics,” her father said, after some time, “will you come back?”

He didn’t say home, she thought. “For a few days, maybe. But it might be easier to go straight back to New York.”

“I’d… I’d like it if you came back.” He shuffled his feet, shoulders hunched.

What for, she almost said, unthinkingly. But really, what for? So she could spend three days recovering from jetlag in her apartments while he forgot about her?

“Would it be alright if I stopped by later?” he asked. “I can–I can bring some snacks. Popcorn. And we can watch something together, for your birthday. For old time’s sake.”

She should say no. She should say he didn't need his performative bullshit. She should say he wasn't going to show up, so why bother. But deep down, she was still seven years old and just wanted her dad to love her, despite him making it clear he didn't, never had, and didn't plan to.

"Okay."

And then he smiled at her, like he had over that plate of diner food all those years ago, and she felt warm inside, like she had just taken that perfect first sip of hot cocoa. “Excellent. I’ll see you then.”

“It’ll probably be late,” she said, giving him a chance to back out. “I don’t know how much longer this is going to go on.”

“Ah, just leave it to me, dear,” he grinned, placing his empty wine glass on the tray of a passing server. “You go ahead and get comfortable, and I’ll go ahead and make your apologies to your uncle.” And then he wandered off, in search of the king.

Well. At least it got her out of her own party, if nothing else. She slipped out through the special side exit, nodding at Hans, who valiantly suppressed a smile as he closed the door behind her.

She wasn’t expecting much. Best case scenario, her dad showed up and they very awkwardly sat on opposite sides of the couch for two hours; worse case scenario, her dad didn’t show up and she got to go to sleep early. Honestly, it was a win-win either way.

Slipping out of her dress, she threw it across her bed, vowing to pick it up before she went to bed, before going in for a shower–a long shower. She was still exhausted and sore from her workout that morning, and sitting all evening, perched on those decorative chairs, her feet crammed into a pair of heels, had done her absolutely no favors. Afterwards, she pulled on her old Harvard t-shirt and sweats, furiously scrubbing her makeup off in her bathroom. They always used too much of it, and it made her forehead itch.

She had just finished her curl treatment and was debating the merits of a face mask when she heard a knock at her door.

Swallowing, she paused, her hand on the spigot.

“Annabeth?” she heard her father say, muffled. “It’s me, dear.”

He… he was here.

To say he couldn’t make it?

But if he couldn’t make it, then he would have just texted her. Or not shown up at all.

Slowly, like in a dream, she went over to her door, and opened it. On the other side was her father, his nice suit and official sash exchanged for a pair of silk pajama pants and his own Harvard t-shirt. When he saw her shirt, he beamed, almost childlike in his joy. “We match!”

She smiled back, in spite of herself. “Come on in,” she said, standing aside.

“I can’t remember the last time I was here,” he mused, eyes wide as he took the apartment in. It was pretty clean, thankfully. The cleaning staff here were amazing, but Annabeth didn’t really spend that much time in it anyway. Her place in New York was much, much more of a home. And had the floordrobe and dirty dishes to prove it. “Did you change the furniture recently?”

Annabeth shrugged. “Dunno. Not like anyone asked me my opinion on interior design.” Despite, you know, her graduate level qualification in architecture and design.

“Oh.” Her father frowned. “Well, I’ll remind someone to remind anyone doing remodels or decorations that they should talk to you. I know you don’t live here anywhere close to full time, but I want you to feel like it's home. Because it is your home.”

That would be… nice. “Thanks.” His arms were full of things, she just realized. “Do you need me to take something?”

“Can I just put it on the table?”

She nodded, looking over what he'd brought as he spread it out. A couple of bags of popcorn, a jar of olives, a stack of DVDs and… “Did you send someone to get Dunkin?” she asked, picking up the familiar orange and pink box.

“Not all the way to Boston,” her father assured her, chuckling. “There's one in Copenhagen.”

She smiled despite herself. She remembered being very small, and being in Boston with her dad. Maybe before they moved back to Sweden, or maybe on one of the trips he liked to take her on, before he got married. He’d shared a donut with her, and told her it was the one and only thing that America did better than Europe. She took a donut hole and bit into the sugary, fried goodness. It was not as good as the one she’d had in JFK, waiting for her plane, but this one had also traveled from Denmark, so it wasn’t fair to compare. “What are we watching?”

“I have an old collection of classics,” her dad said. “Roman Holiday for me, Legally Blonde for you.” He smiled, grabbing the Roman Holiday first. “It's late, so it's alright if, when we’re done, you want to go to sleep. But I brought a few others, too.” Sune’s Summer, Lotta, and…

“Clash of the Titans?” She asked. They used to watch it on his old VHS tape, straight out of the 80s.

“We haven’t watched that one together in forever,” he said. “I had to at least bring it.”

She smiled. “Let’s get started, then. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

She hoped she didn’t look too guilty during Roman Holiday, praying that memories of Percy Jackson and his stupid chest would fade soon (even if, hopefully, the memories of his tongue would stick around), but then Audrey went on about duty and rules and Annabeth was reminded of hers, though she didn’t not think she was making quite the same sacrifice as Ann. Gregory Peck wasn’t throwing away his career for her.

She waited until Legally Blonde though, because Elle made her brave. Her father and his siblings might have gone to Harvard, and Annabeth might have spent several years living in America, but taking that leap, leaving the sheltered worlds she had known, and moving to Boston for school had seemed momentous in a way other, arguably more stressful things never had. Royalty, bravery, and battle were in her blood. But Harvard University, being a single girl in the big city, that all seemed harder, in its own way.

Elle Woods was brave, so Princess Annabeth would be too.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started, as Elle stood in line to buy a laptop in her Playboy bunny suit, “About my future.”

Her father paused, then sighed, and she felt her stomach turn in a way that had nothing to do with the day old donuts or popcorn. “I see.”

“I… Do you have any thoughts?”

“About your future?”

“Yeah.” He had gone through the royal marriage process. Maybe he could give her some tips.

He leaned back, his mouth twisting. “Well,” he said, “I don’t think I can really speak to it without knowing what you’re looking for.”

Was he really going to make her say it? “Any tips for finding a spouse? You managed yourself a wife who loves being a royal. I’d love some suggestions on how to replicate that success.”

Brow furrowed, he didn’t look at her. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“For what?” For marriage? Probably not. But for the crown… Did he think she couldn’t do it?

“For–”

And then she decided, she didn’t really want to know. Rushing forward, she interrupted him. “Besides, it’s not really a question of readiness, isn’t it? I mean, it’s going to happen anyway.”

“You’re still young,” he said. “You don’t have to rush anything.”

“Not that young.” Twenty-five? It might not be the Middle Ages anymore, when sixteen year old girls were married off to prevent war. But still, every day she waited, possibilities slipped away. “I’m not planning on getting married next month,” she offered, “or even next year. But soon twenty-five will be thirty, and thirty will be thirty-five. If I start now, I can be selective, I can find someone Uncle Randolph and the court of public opinion will approve of.” She wondered if he even registered that she didn’t include him in the list of approving parties.

“Still, there is no rush.”

“That’s why now is a good time,” she told him. “It has to happen someday. Putting it off will only delay the inevitable, and possibly make the stakes that much higher.”

“What stakes could be higher than who you marry?”

Was he for real? “The succession of the monarchy of Sweden,” Annabeth said, with as much ‘duh doi’ as she could muster without actually saying it. “Heirs are supposed to have kids. That’s how hereditary monarchies work.” He should know this. They’d both minored in poli sci.

But he shook his head. “That doesn’t have to be your concern. Not about this, not about finding a partner.”

“Uncle Randolph is the king,” Annabeth pointed out, as patiently as she could. “You’re his heir. And I’m your heir.” Unless he decided to go with one of the twins, which–no. “Finding a husband is inextricably linked to the succession of the throne.” She refused to believe that he’d married his wife, the dear Princess Frederick, without at least considering how she’d react to royal life. Even if, on the whole, it was true love, or whatever.

“You still don’t need to make it your concern.”

“You have a way for me not to take the future of Sweden, the future of our very ancient bloodline, into account for all of my decisions going forward?”

“Yes,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “you can abdicate your position.”

Well, that was…not exactly unexpected, but also, not exactly expected, either. Again, it was the brazenness of it all. “Interesting proposition,” she said, popping a donut hole in her mouth. Her mind ran through the possible responses. “What exactly would I get out of that?”

The real question was what he might offer her to do so: a new title? Money? Finally loving her?

Her father took her hand. When she turned to look at him, she nearly jumped–he was facing her, his eyes deadly serious in a way that she had rarely seen before. “My dear,” he said, his tone grave, “you could have someone who loves all of you.”

Stunned, she said nothing.

But he went on. “Your mother was extraordinary, and I loved her very much. I believe she loved me, too–but only one part of me. And then when I married, it was to someone who only knew the other part of me.”

Annabeth didn’t mean to scoff aloud. But her father looked up at her, a question in his sad frown.

“I mean…” she hedged, awkwardly, “what doesn't she like about you? Other than the fact that you had the gall to have me before she got her hooks…” He frowned, and she coughed. “I mean, before she met you.”

Her father sighed, a deep, world-weary thing. And she was sure she was going to get some platitude about what a good woman her step-mother was, how she was a very important and valued member of the family, the sentiment of ‘more than you are’ going unvoiced deep below the surface.

“She enjoys being married to a prince, and she enjoys being a mother to princes,” her father said instead. “She loves being a princess, and she loves that I made her one. But… for all the issues between your mother and I, I never doubted that she loved me for the man I was, not titles or family. If anything, I think bloodline proved a discouragement, but she chose me, anyway. Your stepmother loves the prince she’s married to. But I think the fact that I am that prince doesn’t really matter. As you said, she resents that I had you, before I met her. Which is ridiculous on any level, of course, but with you… with what you mean to me…” he trailed off, and shook his head. “There is very little I regret in this life, Annabeth, except for how I hurt you, but I will admit… sometimes, the loneliness can be grating.” He squeezed her hand. “You are too wonderful to bear that loneliness.”

Predictably, she blinked back tears. She had borne that loneliness all her life. What would be any different about marriage? “You don’t think I can handle it on my own? Being queen?”

“Of course you can,” he said, without hesitation. Like it was unthinkable. “With grace and poise. But you shouldn’t have to.”

Pulling on her hand, her father gathered her into a hug, placing his head on top of hers. With a start, she realized she couldn’t remember the last time she had actually hugged her father. It was an awkward fit, on the couch, their bodies too far away for them to really hug it out, her arms resting almost limply at her sides.

“Don’t keep punishing yourself because of my mistakes,” he said, resting his cheek on the crown of her head. “Please, dear. You deserve so much more than you’ve been given.”

She froze, for a second, before slowly snaking her arm up around him. Her body relaxed into his hold, muscle by muscle, and she shut her eyes, blocking out the light and the noise of the TV and the voice in her head which whispered to her warnings of trickery or subterfuge.

No. This wasn’t a ruse. She wouldn’t let herself believe it. Instead, she would simply breathe in his scent, old books and motor oil, and appreciate the moment for what she wanted it to be.

#princess sailor au #my fic #darkmagyk #pjo fic #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #one chapter a month is consistent uploading right? lol #also lmk if you want to be tagged

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geekgirles · 3 years ago

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Your Heart

Chapter 4 -- Stalemate Word Count: 8284

READ ON AO3

Waking up to the sound of her parents’ latest invention going awry was something she was sure she was never going to get used to. Never mind that she’d have an entire life to get accustomed to it or her newfound respect for what her family did for a living.

As disciplined as Jasmine Fenton was, being awakened by an explosion was never going to be anything but annoying.

Sighing resignedly, Jazz yanked her covers aside and got up, ready to start a new day. After showering and getting dressed with a long-sleeved, white dress shirt, a black ribbon tied tightly around its collar; a matching black, a-line skirt over thin grey tights; a teal blazer over her shirt, and brown ankle boots (which went well with her brown leather shoulder bag); she first made her way down the stairs to her parents’ lab.

Absent-mindedly combing her pixie cut with her fingersーa decision she made after 18 years of rushed haircuts due to having been covered in some sort of unknown ectoplasmic goo after an invention explodedー, Jazz cut straight to the chase. “Let me guess, your latest invention just ‘malfunctioned’”, she air-quoted.

As she expected, Jack and Maddie were hunched over a metallic device that had definitely seen better days, if the smoke coming off of it was any indication...What she wasn’t expecting though, although she should have, was her dad’s answer. “Actually, that was just the Fenton Toaster. We were about to start the day with a healthy, ghost-kicking breakfast, when she failed on us.” Had she been sixteen again or literally any other person in the world, Jazz might’ve actually been taken aback by the fact that her dad was tearing up over a toaster. Then again, she was Jazz Fenton and this sort of thing from her dad was as common as him yelling obscenities about ghosts. “Oh, dear friend. We hardly knew ye!”

Rolling her eyes at his dad’s antics while her mum patted his shoulder in an effort to comfort him, Jazz muttered, “Dad, that toaster’s almost as old as Danny…” Who, by the way, was going to be ecstatic to learn the dreaded toast-drying machine from Hell had finally been vanquished.

Speaking of her little brother, “Where’s Danny, anyway?”

Again, to any other family in the USA but the Fentons, that question would have seemed stupid. Danny was a college student who lived at his university’s dorms with his best friend, so the chances of him being around his childhood home during the school year were pretty slim. And, again, they were the Fentons, and her little brother had been going back and forth from his dorm, to Fenton Works, to the Ghost Zone (not like their parents knew, or even needed to know, about that one…) since he first got into APU.

Maddie left her weeping husband’s side to pick a wrench up and start working on the toaster again ーpoor Danny; it seemed the evil, toast-drying machine from Hell was harder to get rid of than Vlad. “Sorry, sweetie. You missed him while you were doing your research. Your brother was here yesterday; he said he came Sunday night because he couldn’t find his dorms’ keys. But he’s back at college now.”

She suddenly stopped tinkering with the busted toaster’s inner workings, taking off her goggles from her face, a pensive expression plastered on her face. “Hm...I know Danny’s always been a little distracted, but he keeps losing his keys. At this rate he’s going to end up sleeping on the street just because he can’t get inside his own home!”

Recovering from his temporary loss of composure over the Fenton Toaster ー“I love you, guys, but it’s a miracle this family hasn’t been studied by professional psychiatrics already. Not like I didn’t give it my best shot…”, Jazz thought to herselfー, Jack was soon standing right beside his wife, towering over the pile of scrap metal with a matching pensive expression of his own.

That couldn’t be good.

“Now that you mention it, sweetcakes,” he said, “you’re right. Danny’s always losing stuff!”

“Right?” Maddie insisted. “Don’t you remember, back in his first year of high school, when his English teacher, Mr. Lancer, called you over because Danny’s pants kept falling several times just that week?”

“Uh...the memory’s a bit blurry, Hon, but I know what you mean.” In truth, Jack didn’t remember any of that. All he knew was that he suddenly found himself chaperoning a homecoming dance. If only there was a way to get your memories back like those keychains that you attached to your clothes… And then it hit him. “I know, Maddie! Why don’t we make one of those keychains that you attach to your clothes so you won’t lose them for Danny?”

His wife beamed at that. For all his scatterbrained-ness, Jack truly was a talented inventor with a creative mind. Just a fuzzy head. “Oh, that sounds marvelous, honey! I’m sure Danny will love that!” She exclaimed before quickly pecking him on the lips.

Unbeknownst to her parents, Jazz grimaced in worry at the idea. Back when she was sixteen, or any other day, really; she’d have been overjoyed at the idea of her ghost-hunting parents creating something that was absolutely non-ghost-related, but since said idea would make it more difficult for Danny to keep his secret from them...She was just glad she was in town to look over him. Trying to appear supportive rather than dismayed, Jazz chirped, “Yeah, great idea, Dad...What are you going to call it? The Fenton Keychain?”

“‘The Fenton Keychain?’” Jack parroted before scoffing. “Of course not, Jazzy-pants! I was thinking something more along the lines of, ‘The Fenton Fermoir’!” He announced, striking a dramatic pose.

The blue-eyed young woman started at that, taken aback. “Wait, ‘fermoir’? Isn’t that French?”

“Yes, it’s an adjective that means ‘that which closes.’”

Gaping at her dad, Jazz blinked. And blinked again. And blinked a third time for good luck. “...you know French?”

This time, it was her mother who answered her, laughing her question off. “Oh, yes. There’s more to us than just ghost-hunting, you know?” Then she and her husband laughed together at her own joke.

“Could’ve fooled me…” Jazz mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Um...oh, right. So Danny’s not here today, huh?” Her parents shook their heads. “That’s a shame, I wanted to ask him how things were going with...um...with, you know, school and all that. Oh, well! I’m sure he’ll tell me some other time.”

Jack and Maddie exchanged a glance. Ever since Danny started going to high school, their kids often acted weird. At first, they blamed it on adolescence, making them want to make an identity for themselves outside of their parents’ influence but not knowing exactly who they truly were, either. But the fact that their eldest child was 23, their youngest 21, and they still acted like that sometimes was a bit concerning.

The wrench in her hand long forgotten, Maddie made her way to her daughter’s side. She draped an arm around her shoulders, not noticing that said arm was the one holding the aforementioned wrench and that she was unconsciously pointing at Jazz’s face with it. “Honey, is there something about Danny we should know about?”

Jazz panicked.

Yes.

Yes, there were so many things about Danny they should know about.

They should know their kid had gone through a terrible accident that changed his life forever at the tender age of fourteen. They should know he got ghost powers he spent agonising months trying to get control over. They should know he only ever wanted to protect innocents from ghosts and yet, he was labeled as a menace by the very same people he was trying to look after. They should know he’d not only been carrying the burden of being Amity Park’s unofficial protector since he was fourteen, but also became the king of an entire dimension and could count the people he could rely on with his hands. They should know he went through his very first serious heartbreak because the girl he liked hated his ghost half more than she liked him. They should know their college best friend was a fruitloop who wanted to kill Dad, take Mum from him, and either kill or adopt Danny; because, really, it all depended on the side of the bed Vlad woke up on.

They should know their only son was risking his life even more now because he’d made a deal with the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park who, judging by what Danny had told her, was the embodiment of a death sentence.

And he’d been carrying all those burdens and responsibilities, facing constant danger, making decisions not even full-fledged adults would find easy to make, and had been aimed at with ecto-blasters by his own parents since he was fourteen. Being Danny Phantom had stolen some of the best years of his life away from Danny Fenton.

And they had no idea of any of that.

But how could they, when Danny refused to tell them the truth?

Every time Danny faced a bigger threat than dealing with ghosts of the same caliber as the Box Ghost, Jazz tried convincing him to come clean to their parents. Because, what if they never saw him again after that battle? What would she tell them, then?

But Danny would not budge. And, Jazz remembered, she couldn’t blame him. With the entire town, barring a dedicated fan club, and a good chunk of the Ghost Zone against him, how could he risk losing one of the very few places he could call home? Just like she told him when he asked her why she never said anything about his secret, it was his secret. Only he could talk about it with Mum and Dad.

“Jazz, honey? Is everything alright?”

Her mother’s voice broke her out of her stupor. She must’ve spaced out for a while, for her parents were looking at her worriedly. Flushing sheepishly, she cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry. And don’t worry about Danny either. He just…” What was that excuse he told her he’d use if anyone started asking questions again? Oh, right. “He’s just busy working on a paper to help me with my own thesis, that’s all.”

Okay. So not only was it a lie, but it wasn’t exactly what Danny told her to say, either. Her little brother decided to respond saying he was suddenly very interested in the occult because he was writing a paper on a seminar he’d signed himself up for, but since she went back to Amity Park to study the witches there, it was still a good excuse.

Said excuse seemed to calm her parents down, before they fully registered her words and they seemed worried again. But, she knew, this time they were worried for her.

“Uh, Princess? Are you sure you want to focus that thesis of yours on...witches?” Jack asked warily, looking up from the remainers of the Fenton Toaster.

The redhead rolled her eyes in annoyance; there they went again. “Your father’s right, sweetie. While not necessarily a bad topic...erm...it’s not exactly the easiest one to research.” Her mother tried to discourage her gently. “For starters, most of the records we have are nothing but speculations and hearsay… I mean, the Salem witch trials were mostly based on unfounded accusations!”

How two of the world leading experts in ectology, who defended the existence of ghosts long before their theories were proven correct, could be so convinced there was no such thing as witches was beyond her. Arbitrary scepticism, much?

Jazz had to admit, she understood her family’s surprise when she opted to focus her thesis for her Cryptology class on the legendary women. A psychology undergraduate, a woman convinced of the infallible nature of the scientific method since birth, and an aspiring psychologist since she was sixteen, it was understandable that her decision to minor in Cryptology would come as a surprise to...well, everyone.

But protecting your half-ghost little brother from the shadows for the last seven years had a way of making you question everything you once thought you knew.

After all, if such a thing as ghosts weren’t only real but had an entire dimension for themselves, then who was to say such a thing as magic-wielding women couldn’t exist?

The moment Danny told her and Tucker he planned on asking them for help at the beginning of Fall only cemented her decision. It was a real pity Danny refused to disclose the supposed location of the Amity Park clan for her safety.

“Mum, Dad, I’ve told you already. It’s precisely because of all those myths that I want to study them. For all we know, all those potions that are always mentioned in folklore could just be really advanced medicine. Are we really going to turn our backs on the scientific community like that?”

“And that’s a great idea sweetie! But…” Maddie tried reasoning with her, but nothing came to mind. Awkwardly, she turned to her husband and whispered harshly, “Help me out here, will you?”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. “What your mother’s trying to say, Jazz, is that, if there was evidence on the existence of witches, we’d already know. Don’t forget, your ancestor, John Fentonightingale, was a celebrated witch hunter during the time of the Salem trials. He was an admired and respected member of his village, but the only thing he ever did was send innocent people to be burned alive.

“When he eventually realised what he’d done, he spent the rest of his life lamenting his shortsightedness; rejecting the fame and glory his witch-hunting days had brought him. And even if he ultimately turned to ghost-huntingー”

“Goodbye, fame and respect.” Jazz mumbled.

“ーthe hole in his heart caused by his actions would never be filled again.” Jack finished his tale with a morose expression, hoping Jazz would understand what he was trying to say.

She didn’t. “Okay, that was a very moving story with a valuable lesson on the dangers of letting fear and paranoia overtake us. But what does it have to do with me?”

Still standing by her daughter’s side, Maddie tried comfortingly rubbing her arms with the hand that wasn’t holding the wrench. “We’re just trying to warn you not to jump to conclusions, because you might regret it.”

Okay, that was it. Her parents were in no position to warn her against jumping to conclusions; they lost that right the day she finally understood they’d been unknowingly talking about ripping their own son apart ‘molecule by molecule’ ーright in front of him. Jerking away from her mother’s touch, she put her hands on her hips as she sent them her most meaningful look.

“For the last time! I’m not going to try and, I don’t know, rally up the entire town against the witches! I just want to study them. You know, learn about their culture, about the origins of their abilities, about the differences between fact and fiction...” she shot them a pointed look as she stressed that last part. “I just want to understand them!”

“But you don’t even know if they exist!” Jack protested as she made it to the stairs.

Hearing her dad’s comment, she turned to face them once more. Oh, she knew they existed alright, that much Danny had been able to clue her in. What she didn’t know was where to find them. But she couldn’t tell them that. “Well, that certainly didn’t stop you from building a ghost portal to another dimension you weren’t even sure existed! And it sure as Heck won’t stop me!”

That last comment should be enough to get her parents off her back for at least a couple of days. But the conversation had put her in a bad mood, something that didn’t happen since she learned to appreciate her parents’ ghost-hunting abilities, or, when it was Danny who was being pursued by them, their lack thereof. Stomping out of the house and slamming the door closed behind her, Jazz angrily made her way to the usual starting point of her quest.

The Amity Park Public Library.

The large granite building was supposed to be completely white, but the decades since it was built had washed out the stones, making them look grey-ish instead. The several steps leading up to the entrance were flanked by two lead lion statues resting atop a block of stone each. The front of the building, on the other hand, was both decorated and supported by numerous columns, with two of them at either side of the wooden door.

Despite the impressive sight, what truly mattered lay behind its doors. Walking inside, Jazz let herself be washed over by the smell of ink and paper so characteristic of the library. Wherever she looked, hundreds of books stood proudly on their shelves, some of them so high up that the only way to reach them was with the help of stairs.

Scattered around the library were several tables and plastic chairs where the visitors could sit to read their latest acquisition or work on the projects that brought them to the library in the first place.

Breathing the scent in, Jazz walked over to the little counter located right at the entrance of the library, where the librarian would usually be working on her computer. Whenever she wasn’t out and about organising books, that is.

Jazz waved at her with a smile. After coming to the library to study for years, she was basically a regular by now. “Good morning, Wilhelmina!” Wincing at her unintentional high-pitched tone, she lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “How’s everything around here?”

Looking up from her computer, the pudgy woman smiled knowingly at Jazz before willing her chair to get closer to her. “Good morning, Jasmine. It’s been so long since I last saw you; when was it again, two days ago?” Wilhelmina joked as she leaned in closer to the redhead, intertwining her fingers as her elbows rested on her desk.

Jazz flushed slightly at the harmless jab. “What can I say? You won’t get rid of me so easily!”

“Don’t I know it…” There was something odd about the way the librarian said those words, but the redhead decided to let it go. It was probably nothing, either way.

“I wanted to ask you if you could recommend a book onー?”

“On witches?” The auburn-haired lady finished for her. Seeing the young woman’s embarrassed hint of red on her cheeks, she chuckled. “Oh, don’t be so surprised, my dear. You’ve been asking for the same thing for almost a month now! It’s just nice seeing someone retain some sort of interest for this old place and its books. Nowadays, most people just come here to surf the net for free.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about me for a while, then! So, the books?”

Leaning back on her chair, Wilhelmina pointed to a faraway aisle. “Try the History section. I’m sure there’ll be a journal or something to help you with your paper.”

Jazz flashed her a charming grin, “Thanks, Wilhelmina. You’re the best!” As she turned her back on the librarian, Jazz failed to notice the dark grin that made its way to her face.

Once Jazz was out of earshot, Wilhelmina said, “Oh, you have no idea,” the twisted expression never leaving her face.

As she walked around the library’s endless halls, Jazz couldn’t help but be grateful for having Wilhelmina as the librarian. Any other person would have looked at her like she was crazy or a Satanist murderer in the making for researching the occult so much, but never Wilhelmina. The woman just smiled at her and tried helping her to the best of her abilities. If Jazz had been looking for information entirely on her own, she’d have stuck to a particular section of the library, but Wilhelmina was always recommending a broader search. And, Jazz couldn’t help but think, it was a smart choice. One never knew what they could find or learn if they listened to different experiences other than their own.

Standing in front of the shelf where the history books were, the aqua-eyed woman began scanning for something that might help her clear up the fog surrounding the group of witches Danny might be facing from now on. If she could just find out where their hideout was supposed to be… Not only would she be able to study them, but she might even convince them to ally themselves with her brother for good!

Ever since she was a teenager and found out about her brother’s secret, Jazz was determined to focus her thesis on the effects such circumstances could have on him. But as time went by, she came to understand that would be impossible. Writing a thesis on Danny’s very unique circumstances would be akin to exposing him, and she couldn’t do that to him.

Because he trusted her.

Danny’s number of enemies increased tenfold by the day, while his allies followed a much more stagnant rhythm. Goodness, he couldn’t even get his girlfriend to give up ghost hunting for him! She and Tucker were the only two people in all of Amity Park he could rely on.

And there was no way she’d ever betray that trust.

Which, sure, was a very meaningful proof of the love and bond between them, but still left Jazz without a topic for her thesis. So when Danny revealed his discoveries on the existence of witches, of all things, she was ecstatic.

The possibility of a magical species living in Amity Park was perfect on many levels. On the one hand, it would expand their knowledge of the paranormal, with the added bonus of finding potential alternatives for everyday problems. And on the other, it gave her the perfect excuse to stay close to Danny and make sure he was safe. With her in town, he wouldn’t have to make up excuses as to why he slept in Fenton Works when he already had a perfectly nice place to stay at APU. All he had to do was phase through her room to get to his.

And, most importantly, that way he had somebody else he could talk to about his double life. He was going to need it if he’d indeed managed to establish a truce between the spellbinding women and ghosts. From what he’d told them, those sorceresses were vile.

As she walked over a nearby table carrying a pile of books with both hands, Jazz couldn’t help but wonder how her little brother would handle the situation.

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

Danny was not handling the situation well.

Although, it wasn’t necessarily his fault. Lady Arcana’s own unwillingness to cooperate was a key factor in their stalemate.

Even if they addressed each other formally and obvious jabs directed at their respective species were, thankfully, non-existent, the coldness between them that reigned during their first face-to-face interaction was now stronger than ever.

Just like the last time, he’d sent Skulker to escort the queen and her entourageーwhich still consisted of the same two witches; talk about confidence…ー through the Ghost Zone up until they arrived at his lair’s throne room. They still pretended they were both honoured to be in each other’s presence even though Danny was sure the Witch Queen wished she could just spit at him as much as he did.

And knowing Desiree, if she were near to grant her wish, a cascade of spit would rain down on him.

This time, however, Danny had ventured deeper inside his lair, with the witches close behind him. Figuring discussing over inter-dimensional safety in the middle of his throne room would be unwise, since one never knew who could be watching, he led his guests to the Council Room; where the Observants, Clockwork, and heーand occasionally Frostbite or any other ghost with a modicum of authorityーgathered to discuss political affairs regarding the Infinite Realms.

Admittedly, he wanted to slap himself for not thinking about it sooner.

Another thing that was different and he had failed to point out earlier was that, technically, the witches weren’t alone. No, there was nobody else besides the queen and her two...guards? ーcould he even call them guards?ー but they weren’t alone per se, either.

The bespectacled, strawberry blonde one had a pet owl perched on her shoulder. The bird, Danny had to admit, was beautiful. Its plumage was predominantly white and cream. The white feathers were more noticeable in its belly and heart-shaped face, with most of its body and the top of its head looking rather creamy. The owl’s black orbs seemed not only capable of seeing in the dark, but also deep inside your soul.

In other words, the girl’s pet was pretty, but creepy. And he had a feeling that would be a stable of these women.

The Asian teenager seemed to prefer reptiles, and, yes, he based his hypothesis entirely on the fact that the girl had a bearded dragon around her neck as if she was wearing a scarf. Danny couldn’t tell what was creepier; the lizard’s naturally spiky, scale-covered body and its little tongue licking its eyeball, or the way the witch scratched her pet’s chin and cooed at it when she thought nobody was paying attention to her.

“Well, it could be worse. She could buy herself a cat and name it after a married woman who will never love her back.” Danny had to physically restrain himself from shuddering at the thought.

But the weirdest thing, of course, had to be Lady Arcana’s own companion. Which, again, he was sure was going to be a stable between them. At first he didn't even see her carrying anything, her form obscured by her cloak, but the moment they entered the Council Room ーalone; Lady Arcana had stationed her witches to guard the doors, just as he did the same with two of Walker’s goonsーand she made herself comfortable (or as comfortable as she’d ever be in enemy territory), he spotted it.

Had she really brought a potted plant with her all the way from the portal to his lair? And, now that he took a closer look, was that a carnivorous plant?

Scratch whatever he said about the teenager and her lizard. The way the plant nuzzled her face or wrapped itself around her forearm as she gently stroked its stem was ten times creepier. Although, a part of him couldn’t help but think she and Undergrowth would get along swimmingly.

Two plant-loving psychos bonding with each other. Talk about a meet cute.

But never mind their questionable taste for pets. They’d been discussing for over an hour and they were still at the starting point. Time was money and this woman was going to make him go bankrupt if they kept going like this.

“Your Majesty, I understand the situation is quite...extraordinary, but I’m afraid we are still in need of a solution.” He tried for the umpteenth time that hour.

The woman before him just sniffed in displeasure. It was a good thing they were separated by a rather large, rectangular table, otherwise, he might have leaned forward and wrung her little neck out of sheer exasperation. “I am perfectly aware of the situation, King Phantom. But, as I have informed you already, there is not much I can do if I do not know the cause of the portals opening.”

But that was precisely why he needed her help! Getting frustrated, Danny let out through gritted teeth, “Which I believe is precisely the reason why I need you here in the first place, my Lady. You are supposed to be able to discover the reason behind it.”

“Well, supposedly, these portals are a natural occurrence of the Ghost Zone. How is it possible that you do not know how to take care of the problem on your own?” She countered, matter-of-factly, and Danny would have given about anything to get her to shut up and do something useful instead.

“Supposedly,” he echoed, “your people have the natural ability to surpass the laws that separate the Infinite Realms and Earth from each other, and hence, youーshouldーknowーhowーtoーcounterーit!” His voice raising in volume as he spoke, he made sure to punctuate that last part for emphasis.

Narrowing her violet eyes at him in disdainーhow could he have ever thought they were beautiful?!ー, Lady Arcana spat. “Supposedly, that bond was tattered after your kind’s betrayal.”

If it weren’t for the audacity of her statement, he would’ve recoiled at the gravity and resentment etched into her words. Narrowing his own eyes at her, he leaned forward. “Trust me, your Majesty, you would be wise to keep your mouth shut; you are in no position to talk about betrayals.”

As her scowl deepened, teeth borne at him in anger, a low growl could be heard emanating from her throat. But Danny was not going to be intimidated that easily. Returning the intensity of her gaze, the two kept eye contact, initiating a staring contest born from frustration and distrust.

Eventually, the Witch Queen averted her eyes, crossing her eyes in a huff as she leaned back on her chair. Her little plant reacted to her turmoil, for it hopped over to her ーwait, it hopped?!ーto get her attention. Noticing her weird-ass pet near her, the witch began to absent-mindedly caress its little, purple...head?

He was never eating a salad again in his life; he ought to let Tucker know he’d decided to join him in his carnivorous ways.

Leaning back against his own chair, Danny pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted. They’d been at it for more than an hour and, rather than discuss a possible solution, all they’d done was argue. Sighing through his nose, he called out to her, an idea forming in his mind, “Hey.”

Taken aback by his sudden drop of formality, Sam looked over at him with a guarded expression. What was he up to? Rather than answering, she raised an interested eyebrow as a sign to go on.

Danny took that raised eyebrow and her silence as permission to continue. “How about we drop the honorifics and formality for a while, huh? I don’t know about you, but I’m a rather laid-back person and having to address someone as if I was meeting the Queen of England tends to stress me out. And that by extension makes me much more prone to get defensive.”

Sam bit back her reply that she was, in fact, as much of a queen as the Queen of England, and that he should treat her as such.

“And let’s be real; getting defensive with each other is going to get us nowhere, don’t you agree? Besides, I’m already stressed out as it is due to a matter regarding a black hole forming, so I bet I’m not the most agreeable guy to be around right now.”

“No, you aren’t”, Sam was actually surprised Phantom shared her beliefs about formality and social distance. But that didn’t mean she was going to lower her guard around him. And his last words took her completely by surprise. “...did you just say ‘black hole’?”

“That’s not something you should concern yourself with.” He dismissed the question immediately.

Squinting her lavender eyes at him, her suspicions of any ulterior motives never quite going away, Sam gave in. “What are you getting at?”

At least she was listening to him. He was willing to count that as progress. Danny raised his palms up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, we don’t know for how long we’re gonna have to work together. So how about we’re at least casual with each other? Because, I don’t know about you, but all this higher register of speech is giving me a headache.”

As if to prove his point, Danny rose up in the air until he was comfortably floating about three feet high. As he leaned back, his arms crossed behind his head and one leg over the other, nothing would’ve wiped the smug look on his face as he looked down on the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park, her own jaw hanging low in awe.

Noticing the smugness radiating off of him in waves, the raven-haired girl forced her jaw shut. No way in Hell was she going to give him the satisfaction of amazing her. Even if she wasn’t going to say it aloud, Sam concurred with his point. Straightening her back, head held up high, she made sure to bruise his ego the same way he almost bruised hers. “Fine. Let’s drop the honorifics, I was tired of pretending I have any respect for you, anyway.”

Danny frowned at that. “Hey!”

“What? Do you seriously expect me to believe I’m not in immediate danger of being attacked by a ghost just for the mere fact of invading their turf? That you and your people actually respect mine?” Her voice was laced with cynicism as she scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

As much as Danny would’ve loved to contradict her, he knew he couldn’t. After all, he hadn’t just sent Skulker to escort them in fear they might get lost, the possibility of them being ambushed by vengeful ghosts was very real.

The raven-haired girl smiled triumphantly, knowing she had him right where she wanted him. “If it’s any consolation, if any of you so much as tried stepping foot, or ghostly tail, or whatever, into our territory, not a single one of us would hesitate to exorcise the Hell outta you.” Motioning to the door with her head, she added. “Susan in particular would have a blast.”

“Susan?”

“The teenager with the bearded dragon; Count Scalynton”

“‘Count Scalynton’?” Danny echoed in disbelief, before having to stifle a laugh with his gloved hand. Seeing the Witch Queen’s unamused stare, however, he sobered up. “And...uh...what about...the owl?”

“That’s Spooky.” Lady Arcana replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

“And your little friend?” He asked hesitantly, pointing at the potted plant comfortably perched on its owner’s lap, but making sure his finger didn’t get too close; in fear of getting it bitten off.

“Oh, this little guy?” Sam looked down at DeMilo with a fond smile. “His name’s DeMilo.”

“...are you serious?”

“You got a problem with that?”

“No! No, no. Of course not! DeMilo is...uh, a great name.” He quickly assured her, sheepishly. The last thing he needed was to invoke her wrath, again. Clearing his throat, Danny decided it’d be best to change topics. “So...No honorifics?”

“No honorifics.” Lady Arcana nodded from her chair.

“Right. So, instead of ‘your Majesty’, ‘my Lord’, or ‘King Phantom’, you can just call me ‘Phantom’ and Iー”

“You can just call me ‘Lady Arcana.’” The Witch Queen cut him off with a tone that left no room for discussion.

The white-haired young man slouched slightly at that. Just when he thought they were making progress, she closed herself off completely all over again. But he couldn’t afford displeasing her further, so he’d have to play by her rules...For now. “Right. Got it. So...about those portals?”

As he asked that, Phantom leaned forward to her, changing his position mid-air so his torso was facing now upside down but his head remained straight. As the Ghost King lowered his body so his forearms were atop the wooden table, an intrigued gaze directed at her, Sam deposited DeMilo on the table, her own hands resting on it. Locking eyes, they had each other’s undivided attention.

Understanding they were back to business, Sam sighed tiredly. “I wasn’t lying when I said I need to know the cause behind the portals’ strange behaviour. If this is something that can be solved through magic, then it is imperative that we know what’s causing it to figure out the best course of action to take. The wrong spell could lead to disastrous consequences.”

“Like?” Phantom raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Like sending the world to another dimension instead of closing a portal between dimensions.”

“I guess that makes sense. So how do we figure out the cause?”

“I can start by looking through this.” Sam offered as she, seemingly, got a book out of nowhere, Phantom’s eyes widening at the sight. The reddish-brown leathered book was the same one she used to open the portals to the Ghost Zone, which made it their safest bet for finding a solution. After all, if the book guarded almost forgotten knowledge on how to open inter-dimensional drifts, then it should have the answers to more mysteries, right?

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

Outside the Council Room, on each side of the door, Stephanie and Susan were patiently waiting for their queen. Well, “patiently waiting” might have been an exaggeration. Stephanie was stiff as a board, while Susan looked like a furious guard dog, the murder in her eyes only cemented the picture.

Both witches’ emotional state could only be attributed to one thing.

Ghosts.

Or, to be more precise, the two police-dressed, green spirits they were forced to stand guard alongside because the Ghost King wasn’t about to be caught dead (pun not-intended) with three witches and no back-up.

As much as she hated it, Susan had to give the spook credit: he wasn’t nearly as stupid as she thought.

The teenager kept stroking the length of Count Scalynton’s body, currently sprawled alongside her arm, as she pondered different ways to escape the Ghost King’s lair and his ectoplasmic, door-floating, bloodcurdling realm in case things went awry.

Beside her, Stephanie was lovingly scratching Spooky’s beak in an attempt to calm herself down. Looking over at the ghost-guard assigned to her, she squeaked and promptly looked away when the spectre, having felt her gaze on him, landed his blood-red, pupiless eyes on her. Gulping loudly, she whispered to Susan. “Do you think her Majesty will be frequently meeting Phantom from now on?”

Susan whispered back with a sneer. “I hope not! Miss Wilhelmina was right when she warned me against these putrid, soulless drones. We can’t lower our guards, especially not now that the queen needs us.”

Discreetly pointing with her head, the Asian girl guided her partner’s gaze to her hips. Lifting her red hoodie almost unnoticeably, the strawberry blonde’s eyes widened at the sight; two crossed, leather bandoliers were filled to the brims with an assemblage of jars containing colourful liquids. Stephanie’s jaw almost fell open in shock; the 17-year-old girl was armed to the teeth with potions!

Realising they weren’t alone and the dangers in their secret stash being found out, Stephanie tried to appear nonchalant. Pretending to be talking in general, she added. “I just hope her Majesty is safe.”

Susan gave her a wry smile. “Oh, trust me. Her Majesty will be fine even without our help.”

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

As she skimmed the pages of the spellbook in search of more information on the portals, Sam kept looking over at Phantom, praying he hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

As satisfying as it’d been seeing his bewildered face when she suddenly pulled the book off seemingly out of nowhere, the truth was she’d been carrying it with her under her skirt. But what she worried about was not him finding out about the book, but the other items her dress hid from plain sight.

Strapped around her thigh was a black holster filled with potions. Unlike the arsenal Sam knew Susan had brought with her, which consisted of several offensive and highly corrosive concoctions, the queen’s own collection consisted mostly of Blinding Bombs. As the name indicated, it was a type of potion whose main purpose was to distract the opponent long enough to retreat or come up with a plan. If things went south, all Sam had to do was smash the jar against the ground and cover her eyes, for a small explosion of light would ensue and temporarily blind the spirits, giving her and her girls enough time to escape.

As she leafed through the spellbook’s pages, she suddenly shivered, noticing a cold presence by her side sending shivers down her spine. What was even odder was the sudden smell of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Dumbfounded, she turned her face to the side and growled at the sight. Snapping the book closed and bringing it close to her chest, she snarled at Phantom. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Taken aback by her sudden movements, Danny blinked. “Um, trying to help you?”

He had to be kidding her. “Come again?”

“I...uh...I just thought I could help you look for answers.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “So I was trying to see if I could find anything useful in that book of yours.”

Oh, he definitely had to be kidding her. “No, thank you.” She turned him down, only thanking him out of politeness. She turned back to the book. “You’ll only drag us down, anyway.”

Danny was starting to get really frustrated with that all-knowing, condescending attitude of hers. Even his sister wasn’t as annoying despite her know-it-all tendencies. Hell, Skulker was easier to work with! Standing up in mid-air, using his leverage to stare her downーliterallyーhe folded his arms in front of his chest. “And how, pray tell, am I going to drag us down?”

He was surprised by the witch’s next action. Huffing loudly, she got up from her chair and shoved the book in his face quicker than he could blink. At first he had trouble registering what just happened (mostly because he was levitating a good three feet above her and she was still safely on the ground) until he took notice of the sparkly, purple mist surrounding theーfloatingーspellbook. He blinked in awe; so that’s how her magic looked like. Once the initial surprise had worn off, however, Danny had to admit, he was a little disappointed; he’d expected more than a floating book.

Looking over the tome, he saw Lady Arcana staring intently at him. Instead of anger as he expected, however, an amused, knowing expression adorned her features. He might’ve thought she looked pretty hadn’t it been for the wickedness of her smile.

“Read.” She instructed him.

Danny did as he was told...only to furrow his brow in confusion. What the…? Reading over the pages he couldn’t make sense of anything written on them. The inked markings splattered all over couldn’t even be considered hieroglyphics! Squinting at the offending piece of paper, he tried reading aloud. “Spiral...lightning bolt...spork?...What kind of sick mind came up with this?!”

Sam let out a hollow laugh. “You really think that if you were really able to read this book in the first place all by yourself, you’d even need to call for me?” She rolled her eyes at him, not knowing what to think; either this guy was messing with her head or he was an idiot. She motioned with her hand for the book to return to her “Limit yourself to keeping your subjects in line and let me handle this. Although, on second thought, I might actually be asking way too much of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The green-eyed ghost didn’t like where this was going.

Still reading, Lady Arcana raised her palms up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, for a ghost that’s supposed to be the undisputable ruler of an entire race after having defeated a tyrant, you sure have a lot of detractors defying your authority.”

“Oh, please! Like you know anything about my subjects or any possible detractors.” Was it true he was often fending off ghosts who didn’t care for his laws to stay clear of Amity Park? Saying he didn’t occasionally get his ass handed to him would be like saying his parents took kindly to people who disrespect their jumpsuits, but he didn’t have to tell her that.

“I know more than enough.” Sam countered.

“Oh, yeah? Name one ghost who doesn’t respect my rule and still causes trouble.” The halfa challenged. What was he trying to get out of this? At least ¾ of his enemies screamed their names and evil plots whenever they were freed from the Ghost Zone! In Ember’s case, she literally depended on people knowing and chanting her name.

“That poacher ghost of yours...what’s his name?”

A poacher ghost? Who the fuck was she talking aboー? “You mean Skulker?”

Sam perked up at that. “Yes, that one! He so obviously doesn’t respect your authority. I mean, he literally hunts you, the Ghost King, for sport almost every two weeks!”

An undignified sound escaped the halfa’s throat, but that was the last of his concerns at the moment. “Okay, first of all,” he started, raising one gloved finger, “he so totally respects my authority. Whenever I need help, he’s always willing to put the whole hunting-the-most-unique-specimen-ever aside for the greater good. And second,” he sent her a pointed look, floating closer to her. He revelled in the way she uncomfortably shrunk away from him; served her right, “Skulker’s not a poacher, he’s a hunter!”

“Does he have a permit or a hunting license?” Lady Arcana asked, not missing a beat.

That actually gave him pause. “Well...no, butー!”

“If a hunter hunts with no permit, then he’s a poacher!” Seriously, how dense could this dude be?

“You seem to be forgetting that Skulker is a resident of the Ghost Zone; my domain. Whatever laws are followed on Earth or among your kind, do not necessarily apply to us.”

“That outta shut her up,” he thought triumphantly.

“So you’re saying you’re okay with innocent creatures dying solely for the purpose of flattering one ghost’s ego?”

Well, apparently not. Danny spluttered at that. Who was this woman anyway, Jane Goodall?! “Whaー? No, of course not!” He vehemently denied before changing topics. This woman was about to get a taste of her own medicine. “But what’s with all these pointing fingers anyway?! I bet some of your ��loyal’ witches also commit their own atrocities right under your nose.”

Oh, she was going to blast him into next Thursday for that! Standing up from her chair, Sam slammed her hands against the table (careful not to hurt or startle DeMilo, though). “For your information,” she snarled at the ghost before her, “the only huntress in my clan is Diana. And not only is she formidable, sheーalsoーhasーaーpermit!”

Fed up with the ridiculous conversation and the even more ridiculous woman, Danny slammed his own hands down on the table, even if he was floating. “Again with the permit! What’s with you and permits?! What are you, a cop?!”

“I’m a queen!” Sam all but roared. “So, yes, it is my job to ensure certain jobs are only trusted to people with permits!”

Danny was about to continue ranting, but he stopped himself. All this pointless fighting was only making them waste time, and they couldn’t afford that. He didn’t understand how she wasn’t already exhausted from all the arguing. Rubbing his face with his hands, he let himself fall back on his chair. “Let’s...let’s just keep on investigating. Forget I said anything.”

Sam was about to retort when she took notice of the white-haired ghost’s tired eyes, her own fatigue finally kicking in. Slumping her shoulders as she, too, fell back on her chair once again, she continued reading. “Yeah, sure. That’ll be for the best.”

They stayed in silence for a while after that. Lady Arcana reading intently, and Danny praying to all things above him that he’d be able to survive the day. Eventually, the Witch Queen broke the silence, slamming her book shut. His head snapping up at the sound, Danny dared to hope. “Any luck?”

The queen sighed. “I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?”

His heart sank. “The bad news,” he moaned pitifully.

“Bad news is, there’s nothing in this book about what could possibly be causing the Ghost Zone to create more portals than usual. The most it has is the spell I use to get here, but that’s about it.”

Danny was convinced his heart was now lost somewhere along his knees. “And the good news?”

“This isn’t the only book that might have information on the Ghost Zone. When our people parted ways for good after you-know-what,” the look of resentment was back on her face and Danny didn’t know what to do; he should be the one feeling offended! “most of our knowledge was forgotten, but not lost.”

“Meaning?” He prompted her to finish her statement.

“Meaning, there’s still probably many more books on the topic.” She finished.

“Which means…” Danny began, only for the two of them to groan in dismay. As nice as it was that not everything was lost just because that particular book didn’t have the answers, having to look for another spellbook or grimoire meant they would have to keep meeting with each other. For Lady Arcana would never leave a precious heirloom belonging to her people out of her sight and in the Ghost Zone, and Danny couldn’t afford to take his eyes off of her in case she and her kind double-crossed them.

In other words, they were stuck with each other until further notice...He was starting to regret not being fully killed by the accident the day he got his powers.

#danny phantom #dp #dp fic #my fic #your heart #danny fenton #sam manson #jazz fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton #oc #Amethyst Ocean #ghost king au #witch queen au #ghost king! danny #witch queen! sam #enemies to friends to lovers

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hockey-fics · 4 years ago

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Broken Promises and Forbidden Relationships ~ Jamie Oleksiak

Summary: Having Roope as your best friend was one of the best things in your life. The biggest downside had always been how protective he got. So you made a promise to never get involved with one Dallas Star defensemen in particular...but sometimes feelings are stronger than past promises.

Word Count: ~10.5k

Warnings: Language, very cliche, a lot of drama.

Video source of gif

Huge shoutout to @klingeroopesalove for the idea and then being the most patient person on planet earth for waiting so stupidly long for me to finish it.

A/N: There’s a few sentences in Finnish throughout this. I tried my absolute best with the translations. I don’t speak Finnish so I had to rely on contextual dictionaries for this so I’m really, really sorry if I butchered it! Also, it’s not my best writing in general and I don’t love it, but I hope you enjoy it!

Roope had been the older brother you never biologically had since you were 7. When your parents, the free-spirits they were, had decided to sell the house you had lived in for the first seven years of your life on a whim. But rather than move across town or to a new city or even a different state they decided to start fresh in Tampere, Finland. You moved into a house across the street from another family that your parents quickly befriended and the next thing you knew Roope was showing up at your front door every morning to walk you to school. And after the end of the school day he would show up at your classroom door to walk home with you. He was only one year older than you but he very quickly became protective over you, you were the epitome of a new kid and he wanted to make things as easy for you as possible. And just as quickly you grew attached to Roope, the first day he was sick and couldn’t walk with you to school left you crying so hard your mom agreed to take you herself, leaving her forty minutes late to work.

You had always talked about moving back to the United States growing up. It wasn’t that you disliked Finland, in fact, in many of your daydreams about the USA it felt more like a temporary stop. To reconnect with some of your earliest memories before moving back to Finland eventually.

Saying goodbye to Roope when he moved to Texas after being signed by the Dallas Stars was one of the hardest days of your life. But in retrospect the sadness you felt was overkill. Because within four months you were also living in Texas. And you had adapted incredibly easy to the move. But you knew you had Roope to thank for that, for being the catalyst to finally doing what you said you were going to do.

“Mind if we pick up Y/N on the way?” Roope asks, turning his head to look across the interior of his car at Jamie. Jamie’s car was in the shop and when he mentioned getting a rental car for the day Roope told him he could just carpool to and from practice that day with him instead of going through that hassle. What he didn’t think about was the fact that he had agreed to pick you up on his way home for a movie night at his apartment.

Jamie glances over at Roope with a mischievous grin. He had heard all about you. As had the rest of the team and most likely anybody who Roope had talked to. Everybody knew you were Roope’s best friend and even though he had never said it out loud everyone was well aware of the reason he never brought you around to meet the team. He was protecting you. Protecting you from the possibility of you falling for and getting hurt by one of his teammates. He would try to protect you from getting your heart broken by any guy in the world if it was possible, but the best he could logistically do was keeping you from his teammates.

“No problem,” Jamie replies easily, turning back to look out through the front window of the car.

Roope stops at a red light, glancing back over at Jamie. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Why do you think I would?”

“Because she’s…,” Roope’s voice fades out as he presses on the gas, accelerating through the intersection. “I don’t….she’s really pretty, I guess,” Roope mutters in the way a brother would talk about his sister, uncomfortable even acknowledging the fact that someone might look at you in a way that was more than just friendly.

Jamie chuckles, shaking his head. “Fine, I won’t make it weird,” Jamie assures him with finality, sounding more reassuring than Roope felt.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, drawing your attention away from the book you were reading. ’I’m here’ the text message from Roope reads. Swiping your keys from the counter and your bag from beside the door you head out, hurrying down the stairs and outside.

Approaching Roope’s familiar vehicle you reach out for the door handle on the passenger’s side, pausing when you notice a person in the passenger’s seat already. Before you have the chance to get to the backseat the door opens.

“You can have the front seat,” the man tells you and after a couple moments you recognize him as Jamie Oleksiak. Oleksiak. You were more familiar with him by his last name after watching almost ever single one of Roope’s games.

“No, no,” you tell him quickly, watching as he steps out of the car. But your hand is already on the back door. “Get back in,” you laugh, gesturing towards the car.

Jamie shakes his head, an amused smile on his lips. “I’m the one messing up your movie date.”

“It’s not…it’s not a date…and you’re definitely not messing anything up.” You weren’t sure where that need to clarify came from. You had joked about dating Roope more times than you could count. About how often he would pay for your meals out, picking you up and taking you home, texting and FaceTiming constantly when you weren’t together. But you wanted Jamie to know it wasn’t like that. And even though you wanted to deny it, it was pretty hard to convince yourself that it wasn’t simply because of Jamie. Because of his tall figure towering over you. Because of the grin on his lips as he looked down at you. Because of the tattoos covering his muscular arms, partially obscured by the sleeve of his t-shirt. Because of his piercing eyes locked on yours. And maybe, just maybe, you finally understood the jokes Roope had made to you about keeping you away from his friends. Because you really had underestimated just how attractive Jamie really was, the brief shots of him on the television screen during games doing him no justice.

Jamie chuckles, his hand resting casually on top of the car door in a way you knew would look ridiculous if you ever tried. “I’m not the one making it weird,” Jamie says, turning to look back into the car at Roope.

You narrow your eyes as you lean down to look through the interior of the car, watching Roope turn his head to look back at you. “Mene vain autoon, Y/N,” Roope says, telling you to get in the car.

You blink a few times as Roope begins to speak Finnish, something he only ever did when he was frustrated with you or wanting to tell you something privately when other people were around. “Mikä sinua vaivaa?” You reply, voice hushed as you ask him what his problem was while climbing into the backseat of the car.

You watch as Jamie apprehensively gets back into the passenger’s seat, eyes shifting back and forth between you and Roope.

“Älä flirttaile hänen kanssaan,” Roope warns, telling you not to flirt with Jamie as he turns back around in his seat to look out through the front window.

“En flirttaillut hänen kanssaan,” you state harshly, letting Roope know you weren’t flirting with Jamie. But perhaps it was a slight lie. With the way you made it very clear that he wasn’t messing up your day, the way your eyes lingered on his just a little too long. You turn your head to the other side of the car, noticing Jamie glancing back at you. “Sorry,” you tell him with a soft smile. “Someone doesn’t know it’s rude to speak in a language their guest can’t understand,” you state, a jab at Roope, playful, but still a jab.

Jamie chuckles, not looking back out the front window for a few minutes. “I’m Jamie, by the way,” he tells you, now settled in the car and realizing nobody had even done introductions. Not that they needed to be done. You had watched Jamie play more times than you could possibly count and he had heard more stories about you than he could possibly count.

“Nice to meet you,” you tell him, stopping yourself before saying ‘I know’. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know,” he says and you can’t help but smile at that, at how quickly he said exactly what you hadn’t. “Heard a lot about you.”

“Oh god, that can’t be good,” you joke, laughing as you slide into the seat behind Roope so you would have a better view of Jamie as you continued the conversation.

Jamie chuckles and turns his head to glance at you, the glance lingering longer than it should have and you can’t ignore the butterflies in your stomach coming alive with the way he was looking at you. “All good stuff,” he assures you.

“Good,” is all you can manage to whisper. It wasn’t like you to be at a loss for words, but your mind was a blank slate, empty under his gaze. But the second his eyes flick away from yours you know you’re in trouble, because all you want is for them to be back on you. “What are you doing this afternoon?” You blurt out and Jamie turns to look back at you while Roope glances in the rearview mirror, trying to figure out if you were really about to do what he thought you were.

Jamie shrugs, shaking his head. “I don’t know, I’ve got no plans.”

“Come watch a movie with us,” you suggest, trying to sound casual about it, not too eager.

“Y/N, ei,” Roope mutters, telling you no.

“I-,” Jamie begins, looking over at Roope and then back at you, seeming torn. “If you don’t mind.” You weren’t sure who the latter part was directed at, but you were pretty sure it was Roope given his uncomfortable tension through the entirety of the car ride.

“That’s fine,” Roope mutters. You know it’s not fine. You know he doesn’t want you to get close to his teammates. He never did.

Growing up in high school when everyday you were in the same building as the junior hockey team it was harder for Roope to keep you from getting hurt. And hurt is exactly what you got. Hurt by one of Roope’s teammates when he cheated on you after your five months together, a reasonable feat at 15 years old. And of course Roope hated him after that, but you made him promise that he wouldn’t let it impact how he played. That whatever happened during the 60 minutes of his hockey games had to be completely unrelated to what happened with you. And as far as you could tell, he upheld that promise back then.

But you weren’t going to let that one experience when you were 15 years old interfere with your life all these years later.

You’re in Roope’s apartment soon after, Jamie standing a few feet away, watching as you put a bag of popcorn in the microwave while Roope had disappeared somewhere in his apartment.

“What movie are we watching?” Jamie asks, watching you push the button for the popcorn on the microwave.

Turning to him you press your hip to the counter as the microwave whirs in the background. “I think the guest should pick.”

“You’re the guest here too,” Jamie points out.

Rolling your eyes playfully you cross your arms over your chest. “Hardly. I’m here almost as much as my own apartment.”

“Okay, well you have to at least help me out.”

Lifting your eyebrows you look up at him. “Oh, do I?”

Jamie nods, a smirk on his lips. “Yeah, you do.”

“Okay,” you tell him slowly, waiting for him to go on.

“What category of movie should I pick from?”

“Romantic…comedy, a comedy,” you tell him, quickly changing your answer when you considered the possibility of your suggestion coming across too strong. You weren’t going to deny that you were attracted to Jamie, but you couldn’t be that outright about it. You had to feel things out for now.

“Romantic comedy,” Jamie states, combining the two suggestions you made into one. It felt so easy, the way he said it, his voice gentle and sweet.

You feel your cheeks getting a little warm and you immediately divert your attention back to the microwave, eyes watching the numbers decreasing. You’re sure for a moment that time has slowed down to make you sit in this situation for longer than normal. “Can you grab a couple bowls?” you ask Jamie, nodding towards the cupboard behind him.

Jamie turns around and opens the cupboard door, reaching up to grab a couple of the bowls from the top shelf. As he does so you can’t help but look back in his direction, eyes taking in the sight before you. Sure, you knew you shouldn’t be staring. Maybe it was disrespectful or inconsiderate. He was just doing what you asked, helping you out, you shouldn’t be checking him out. But it felt like a magnetic pull that you didn’t know how to break from.

You don’t look away quick enough when Jamie turns back towards you, the two bowls in hand. You know that he had caught you staring. You knew it from the smirk on his lips as he extends his arm with the bowls, silent as he hands them to you.

“Thanks,” you whisper, taking them and setting them on the counter. Keeping your back to him you take the popcorn out of the microwave, dumping some into each of the bowls, trying to ignore the urge you had to look back and see if he was watching you. You were fairly sure he was, if not simply because you were the only other person in the room.

“No problem,” he replies, leaning against the counter.

When you look back over he’s already looking at you, but he’s unwavering in it. “He wasn’t lying.”

“Hm?” You hum, one hand resting against the counter as you look up at Jamie.

“Roope said you were really pretty…he wasn’t lying.”

You feel your heart hammering, loud and distracting in your own ears. “He must have forgotten to give me the same message about you.” Your eyes were focused on the counter, on the clock on the stove, briefly on Jamie’s lips, anywhere but his eyes. You were scared if you looked into his eyes you simply wouldn’t be able to look away, to hide the fact that you were falling for him harder and faster than you knew you should be.

“That I’m really pretty?”

And suddenly the tension in the room has changed. It’s lighter now as his comment makes you giggle. When you look over from where you were staring at the flashing light on the dishwasher you notice him already looking at you with an amused grin. “Yeah, you’re for sure one of the prettiest people I’ve ever seen,” you joke.

“I’m flattered,” Jamie chuckles, reaching over and picking up at piece of popcorn.

A moment later you reach over as well, grabbing a few pieces as you step away from him and into the middle of the kitchen. “Catch,” you tell him, tossing a kernel of corn through the air.

Jamie instinctively reaches out, catching the popcorn in his hand with ease.

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Not with your hand, dumbass,” you tease. Occasionally it came back to you. Flirting in the same way you flirted as a teen, with a slight meanness to your comments. “Your mouth.”

Jamie laughs and you feel your cheeks warm up again. “Not…,” you begin, trailing off as you realize you didn’t need to clarify that you didn’t mean anything sexualize by it. You try again, tossing it towards him.

“You’re going to have to throw higher than that.”

“You’re too tall,” you giggle, trying to get some more height on the popcorn. “It’s too light,” you whine about the popcorn.

Jamie grabs a handful of popcorn, nodding for you to step back before he grabs one piece and throws it in your direction. You manage to catch the first kernel, laughing as you spin in a celebratory circle. Jamie tries again and this time you step overzealously to the side, your hip smacking against the corner of the kitchen island.

“Ow,” you whine, laughing as you grasp your hip.

“Are you okay?” Jamie asks, stepping over towards you, his hands hovering towards you, as if wanting to do something to help the situation but falling short of knowing what to do.

You can’t help but fall just a little more for him, for the way his eyes were filled with concern over such a little thing. “Yeah, completely,” you assure him, looking down at his hands. You watch him hesitantly bring one to the counter, resting it there in an attempt to look like he wasn’t unsure of everything he was doing. “Thanks for asking though.”

“Of course.”

You place both your hands onto the counter, hopping up onto it. For the first time you’re the same height as Jamie and you’re finally looking into his eyes for more than a couple fleeting seconds. “You have really nice eyes.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, eyes locked on his.

“Thank you,” Jamie replies, his own voice in a low whisper as he gravitates a little closer. He leans a little closer and you realize he’s looking into your eyes, really and truly looking into them. “Yours too.”

Jamie is standing directly in front of you now. You couldn’t stop your mind from flooding with all sorts of less than PG thoughts about Jamie standing so close to you, so close to standing between your legs. You can’t even manage to say anything over the volume of the thoughts in your head.

“What movie are we watching?” Roope asks, breaking you away from the moment you were having with Jamie.

“Jamie is picking,” you tell him, turning your head around to look over your shoulder at Roope. As Jamie steps back you slide off the counter, grabbing the two bowls of popcorn from the counter.

“A romantic comedy,” Jamie chimes in as you and him follow Roope into the living room.

Roope laughs as he plops down onto the recliner he always sat in. He always sat in the recliner so you could lay on the couch. “Oh, you’re not joking,” Roope comments, noticing he was the only one laughing.

“You’re going to make Jamie share the couch and popcorn with me?” You ask Roope, your tone lighthearted but your insides twisting into anxious knots. How did Jamie have such control over your feelings? He was just a guy. Just one of the most attractive guys you had seen in awhile. But just a guy.

“I don’t mind,” Jamie says, already sitting down on the end of the couch.

Nodding you walk over, sitting down a couple feet away from him as you set the bowl of popcorn between you two. You reach over for the remote, handing it to Jamie as you pull your legs up onto the couch, shuffling a little closer to him so you could reach the popcorn.

“Olen kolmas pyörä,” Roope mutters, complaining about feeling like a third wheel.

“Hiljaa,” you reply, telling him to shut up as you shake your head. He wasn’t a third wheel as he was insinuating with his comment. Though perhaps if you really did have it your way he would be. But just as that thought pops into your mind you’re quick to get rid of it by focusing on the Netflix options Jamie was scrolling through.

Fifteen minutes later a movie is playing and you’re all sitting quietly watching it. You were far more tense than normal. You weren’t lounging on the couch shovelling popcorn into your mouth without a care in the world.

But halfway through the movie you felt some of your nerves dissipating, the familiar feeling of getting over the initial anxiety during a first date. But you felt ridiculous that you were feeling like that. This was so far from a first date.

Eventually the popcorn bowl is moved onto the coffee table, leaving the space between you and Jamie empty. And you find yourself gravitating towards him a little every time you adjust on the couch. And then his arm is around the back of the couch behind you and you can’t help but turn to look at him with a playful smile on your lips. Because it was such a classic move, the arm on the couch, it wasn’t as forward as putting your arm around someone. It was subtle, it was open to interpretation. It was a way to make a move where you couldn’t be directly denied. But when he looked back down at you, you knew that you hadn’t misread the situation. So you slide a little closer, tentative as you lean against him.

“Do you like the movie?” Jamie whispers once you’re leaning against him, his arm still resting on the couch.

Nodding you tip your head back, looking up at him. You notice the stubble on his jawline, obviously having shaved recently but not too recently. And it looks so effortlessly attractive. His eyes are soft as he gazes down at you. “Yeah, I do. It was a good choice.”

“You’re picking next time.”

The corners of your lips pull into a smile when he says this, feeling his arm slide down from the back of the couch to rest on your shoulders. “Next time?”

Jamie lets out a breath of laughter. “Hopefully,” he whispers.

“I feel left out of this conversation,” Roope announces, looking over at you and Jamie. He waits till you look into his eyes, immediately giving you a look. A look of disapproval, a look of ‘what are you doing?’ Rather than addressing it you quickly break eye contact with him.

“Sucks, hey?” Jamie jokes, referring to when Roope kept speaking to you in Finnish.

You can’t help but giggle at that, feeling Jamies fingers brush over your shoulder, as if to silently tell you he appreciated you laughing at his joke, at being in on a joke with you.

Roope shakes his head, turning back to the movie without saying another word.

By the time the movie comes to an end you’re completely cuddled up with Jamie. He’s sitting at an angle, allowing you lean against his chest, your legs pulled onto the couch. You can feel every time he chuckles at a joke in the movie, the steady rise and fall of his chest with his breath.

“Ready to go?” Roope asks harshly when the movie ends, sitting up straighter in the recliner.

You’re taken aback by this. He almost never asks you to leave after just one movie. He almost never asks you to leave in general. He typically waits will you ask him to drive you home. “Yeah,” you mumble, pulling yourself away from Jamie and stretching your arms in front of you.

You feel a sense of urgency as you pick up the bowl of popcorn to take it to the kitchen, bustling around as you gather your belongings while Roope waits to drive you and Jamie back to your apartments.

This time it’s you who has to be the one to break out the Finnish. And you felt bad with Jamie a few feet away, but the way Roope was acting was equally concerning and irritating. “Miksi käyttäydyt näin?” You ask him why he’s acting like that.

“I thought it was rude to speak another language,” Roope deadpans, grabbing his keys from the counter.

“Whatever,” you grumble, following him out the door. Your relationship with Roope was so much closer to a sibling relationship than a typical relationship. You two would bicker and argue all the time, but you knew it never really meant anything. Well, it normally didn’t mean anything.

After dropping Jamie off at his apartment Roope turns to look at you. “You can’t go out with him.”

“Okay,” you say, the word drawn out as you say it.

“I know you’re into him.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t say that,” you tell him defensively, despite the fact that it was very true.

“I know you well enough, I can tell you are,” Roope says, his eyes focused intently out the front window. “Not that I have to know you well to tell, with you two all over each other on the couch.”

“We weren’t,” you begin, sighing loudly as you roll your eyes. “We weren’t all over each other. He had his arm around me…that’s it.”

“I don’t ask much from you but can you just listen to me for once?”

“What the hell?” You whine, rolling your eyes. “I listen to you all the time.” And it was true, you were always going to Roope for advice. The only difference is that was advice you were asking for, this was advice he was giving you.

“Can you please just agree to this?”

“Fine,” you huff. You knew it would be easier to just let this go. It wasn’t like Jamie even asked for your number or made any real plans to see you again. So it wasn’t worth arguing for something that wasn’t even going to happen.

“Good,” Roope comments, stopping at an intersection. “So do you want to come back to my apartment and watch another movie?”

Laughing you roll your eyes. So getting you to leave was just to get Jamie away from you. “Of course,” you reply.

Later that night, after two more movies and pizza for dinner with Roope you’re back at your apartment, getting ready for bed. After you crawl under the covers and pick up your phone you notice an Instagram notification.

Jamie Oleksiak (jamieoleksiak) started following you.

Clicking the notification your phone unlocks, opening his profile. After a few minutes of scrolling through his profile you go back to the top, pressing the follow back button with a smile on your face. You shouldn’t have been so happy. For a few different reasons but primarily because it simply didn’t mean anything.

Months later and you never received so much as a DM from Jamie. You had gotten your hopes up for nothing. Nothing but a friendly gesture for him to follow you. He had liked all your new posts since then, but nothing more than that.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in fifteen,” you tell Roope, your phone sitting on the bathroom counter as you were finishing the last bits of your hair. It was a blatant lie. The drive to his apartment took ten minutes itself and you had lost hope of being out of your apartment in the next five.

It was the Dallas Stars’ annual casino night and Roope had asked you to come with him. He had never invited you to anything like this before and you had a slight inkling you knew why that was changing. Because you had met Jamie. You had met Jamie and absolutely nothing happened. Nothing happened and Roope was ecstatic about it. He was coming around to the idea that perhaps he had been just a little too protective with you.

So here you were, standing in front of the mirror in a black dress, looking more done up than you had been in awhile. You simply had no reason to get this dressed up, makeup and hair done to match.

“I know you’re lying,” Roope comments and you can hear the humour in his voice, can picture him shaking his head.

“Okay, fine,” you huff, yanking the curling iron cord from the outlet, swiping your phone from the counter as you make your way to your bedroom. “Twenty,” you tell him, digging through your closet for the pair of heels you knew you had but hadn’t worn in long enough for them to end up stashed in the back of the closet. “I’m just putting my shoes on now,” you call to your phone on the other side of the room, pulling the heels on and securing the tiny, delicate buckles around your ankles.

“I knew you would be late, we don’t actually have to leave my place for like forty-five minutes.”

You pause, looking over at your phone with narrowed eyes, as if you were really looking at Roope. Huffing you walk over, picking your phone up along with the purse you had already prepared with the essentials for the night. “You’re so…infuriating. I’ve been panicking for like an hour about being late.”

“But if I didn’t do this you would still be panicking and we really would be late,” Roope chuckles.

Rolling your eyes you remain silent, knowing it was the truth. Walking to the door you grab your car keys. “I’m leaving now,” you mutter, pretending to be annoyed with him when you were truly relieved.

“See you in a bit.”

When you get to the venue you become aware of the fact that the night was going to be more overwhelming than you had anticipated. You wanted to make a good impression with Roope’s teammates. But to meet them all at once was a bit more than you bargained for.

“So you must be Y/N.”

Turning your head in the direction of the voice you smile at the man approaching you. Tyler Seguin. You knew who most of the players were, but you knew him especially. Because one of your friends in particular had shared her much more than innocent feelings for him with you.

“I am,” you say with a soft laugh, looking over at Roope teasingly, coming to realize he really did talk about you more than you thought. You talked about him all the time too, with your friends and family. About current things, games and achievements but also when you talked about your past. Because from the moment you met Roope he had been such an important part of your life than almost all of your memories included him in some form. “Tyler, right?”

Tyler smirks and you know it’s just friendly but Roope steps forward, almost between you two.

“Calm down,” you laugh, jokingly pushing at Roope’s arm. “It’s not me you would need to worry about around him.”

Roope’s brows furrow as he stares at you and you can see in his eyes he’s running through the rolodex of options. “Who?” He finally asks, voice hushed as if you were spilling some serious secrets.

“Allie,” you giggle, shaking your head at how intrigued Roope had become.

“Allie, hey?” Tyler chimes in, laughing as he says it, making it evident that he was just joking.

“Don’t get too excited, she’s in Finland,” you explain to Tyler.

As you, Tyler, and Roope continue your conversation your attention it caught by a tall figure across the room. Jamie. And he was looking right back at you.

“Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me for a minute,” you say to Roope and Tyler, stepping back and around them.

Walking up to Jamie you smile up at him. “Long time, no see.”

“Too long,” he replies, lifting the glass he was holding to his lips. “You look beautiful tonight…I mean, you look beautiful always, but tonight especially,” he stammers, chuckling at himself as he shakes his head, both of you aware that he was flustered because of you. “You don’t want a drink?” He asks, clearly feeling like he needed a couple more himself.

“Thank you,” you say politely, replying to his compliment, uncertain of exactly how to take it. Perhaps if he had shown more interest, between the time you met and now you would have a better grasp of how to respond. You wanted to think he was truly into you, but you couldn’t get rid of the nagging in the back of your head telling you that he could have done more. “Yeah, actually, I would,” you tell him finally, glancing around for the bar.

“Let’s go find you a drink then.” Jamie’s hand pressing into your lower back makes you jump, the contact unexpected. “Sorry,” he says instantly, pulling back. You knew he was just doing it to guide you through the crowded room but it caused your stomach to erupt with butterflies in a way that made you realize that the excitement you felt initially was still very much alive.

Laughing you shake your head. “It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting that.” You glance down at his hand, hesitantly reaching over and taking it in yours, nodding in the direction of the bar. “Let’s go find that drink.”

Jamie nods, eyes not leaving yours, a smile on his lips. Completely wrapped up in you, like nothing else going on in the room mattered for the time being.

And you don’t let go of his hand till you’re at the bar, standing next to him while you wait for the crowd of people already there to be helped. You were in no rush because a part of you worried this might be the only time you got to be with Jamie that night. You needed more time with him, to figure out what was happening with him…if anything was happening with him.

“I was surprised when Roope said he was bringing you,” Jamie says as you were glancing around the room, taking in the large and crowded room, the sound of music faded below the hum of conversations blending into one steady drone.

“I think he’s feeling a little more comfortable after we met,” you explain even though you’re certain he already knows this. “Because nothing happened even though we were…” you trail off, hoping Jamie would fill in the blank.

Attracted to each other? Flirting? You were hoping for something, but you receive nothing but a nod of acknowledgement instead.

After getting your drink you glance up at Jamie, wishing for a moment that you didn’t have to do what you were about to do. “I should go find Roope, I haven’t been a great date so far.”

Jamie chuckles and nods. “So it’s a date this time, hey? I remember you got a little defensive about that word last time.”

“I’m more sure that you know Roope and I aren’t a thing now,” you explain, taking a sip of your drink. “I’m surprised you still don’t have someone to bring with you tonight though.”

Jamie chuckles, shrugging. “The person I’m interested right now is here with someone else tonight.”

Laughing you roll your eyes playfully. “Good one, Casanova.” Out of the corner of your eye you notice a couple people standing a few feet away, glancing over in Jamie’s direction. “I think you’ve got some people who want to talk to you,” you tell him, stepping back. “And I should get back to my date,” you add with a teasing smile.

He nod, intoxicated by you, watching you till you had turned around and walked away, back in Roope’s direction.

You can feel the temperature in the place increasing with time, the amount of bodies crammed into the space too much for the air conditioning to keep up. It’s fairly late in the evening when you excuse yourself again. Roope was wrapped up in a conversation with a fan, an elderly gentleman, that you felt rude enough interrupting to tell him you were going outside for a moment.

“I’ll come with you, just give me a couple minutes,” Roope says quietly. “I don’t want you to be outside alone.”

Sighing you shake your head, annoyed both that he felt like you couldn’t go alone and also because a part of you knew he was right. “I’ll be fine.”

“Y/N,” Roope says seriously.

“Fine, I won’t go alone,” you tell him, your eyes having landed on Jamie. He also seemed to be in a conversation, but he was just talking with Jason and Miro. It would be less rude for him to leave them than for Roope. Not to mention you liked the idea of spending a few more minutes with Jamie.

Roope follows your gaze, jaw clenching. But you knew he couldn’t say anything about. Not here, not in front of another person. “Okay,” he mutters to you before continuing on with his conversation with the older man.

You weave your way through the crowd to Jamie who smiles as soon as he sees you, not helping to clear up whether he was into you or not. “Hey,” he greets before you’ve even come to a stop. “Need another drink?” He jokes, referring to your empty hands.

“No, I actually need a chaperone to go outside with me,” you laugh. “Roope won’t let me go get some air by myself.”

Jamie nods, gesturing towards the doors. “Lead the way.”

“You guys coming?” You ask Jason and Miro with a friendly smile.

Jason chuckles, shaking his head as he glances down at the ground. There’s a knowing smile that he’s trying to hide by avoiding looking you directly in the eyes. “Nah, we’re good.”

Nodding you step back towards Jamie. “I’ll have him back soon.”

“Take your time,” Miro comments, making Jason laugh again after just containing himself.

Outside you lean against a waist height cement retaining wall, taking a deep breath of the cool air. More than cool, the air was straight up cold, sending a shiver down your spine. You wrap your arms around your body but by the time your hands are on either arm Jamie has slid his suit jacket off. He opts out of offering it to you first, stepping in front of you he wraps it around your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you whisper as he keeps his hands on the lapels of the jacket. “You didn’t have to.”

“You’re cold,” he reasons, as if it were a given that your comfort should be above his own.

“Because I didn’t bring my jacket out here. Now you’re going to be cold.” You feel your heart racing as Jamie steps closer to you, his hands slowly dropping from where he was clutching at his jacket you had around you.

“I’m tough,” he jokes.

“I don’t doubt it,” you giggle, watching as Jamie pulls back from you, turning around to lean against the concrete wall beside you. “Jamie?” you whisper, eyes focused on the ground a few feet in front of you.

You can feel his eyes on you without having to actually see him. “Yeah?”

Swallowing heavily you cross your arms over your body. For so long you had prided yourself on not being the girl who would chase. You didn’t chase guys, didn’t ask for their attention. But here you were, doing just that. “Why didn’t you ever message me on Instagram? You followed me, I thought you were going to, but then…” you trail off, shrugging, knowing that he knew exactly what you were saying and you didn’t need to keep explaining.

Jamie is quiet for a second. “I didn’t want to get between you and Roope. I know how much you mean to him and I’m sure it’s the same thing for you.”

You can’t help but laugh, turning your head now to look at him. “Nothing could ever come between Roope and I. We’re like siblings. It doesn’t matter what happens, nothing could ever come between us.”

Jamie nods, reaching over and taking your hand, gently pulling you away from where you were standing. You follow his lead, letting him guide you to stand in front of him. His free hand slides beneath his jacket, along your waist. You swallow heavily as he pulls you a little closer. “I was surprised when I actually met you.”

“Why?” You whisper, looking up at him intently.

“Because I never thought you would actually be as incredible as Roope made you out to seem. But you are.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat as you stare at him, speechless. How could you respond to that? You could count on one hand the number of guys who had said things that nice to you completely unprompted, without seeming to want anything in return.

You were already wearing heels but you lean up as much as you can, Jamie quickly taking the hint as he pulls you a little tighter, leaning down. But he’s moving slowly, agonizingly slowly. Just as you’re about to let out a sigh of disapproval loud chatter and laughter piling from the front door makes you pull back. You’re moving so hastily that you almost end up falling, thankful for Jamie’s quick reflexes grabbing your arms and steadying you. But he understands the message behind what you just did and lets go of you, shoving his hands into his pockets to try to seem like they weren’t just all over you a couple seconds later.

“There you are.”

It’s Roope and for the first time in your life you wished he wasn’t there. You loved him with your whole heart. You would do anything for him. But you really wished he was back inside being asked a million questions about hockey. He’s with Miro who is still chuckling about something that had been said before they came outside.

“Hey,” you say to him, smiling softly.

“Some of us are going back to Tyler’s place for a few drinks after, do you want to come?” Roope asks you. You know if you said no it would be no problem, that Roope would happily go home with you and watch movies on your couch. But before you can think about what you’re doing you turn around to look up at Jamie, to see if he was going. You knew how it looked but you were already preparing yourself to brush it off, to say it was just a friendly thing, seeing if Jamie was going. Nothing more.

“I’ll probably go for a bit,” Jamie says to the group but you know the words are directed at you.

You look back to Roope, waiting a couple seconds. You didn’t want to seem too eager to follow up Jamie’s answer with a yes. “Yeah, could be fun,” you tell him casually.

And so a couple hours later you’re standing in Tyler’s kitchen with a can of cider in your hand, the second since you got there. Between that and the three glasses of wine at the event you were feeling a little bit of a buzz. And a little buzz always came with a lot of confidence.

So you excuse yourself from the conversation you were having, walking over to where Jamie was leaning against the doorframe. “Want to go outside…again?” You ask him simply.

Jamie smiles and nods in the direction of the front door, waiting for you to begin walking towards it before following after you. Before you’re even outside Jamie has his jacket off, sliding it over your shoulders as you step outside.

“Kiss me,” you whisper once the door is closed.

“Right here?” Jamie asks, wanting to make sure you were absolutely certain about the risk you were about to take. Knowing that at any moment Roope could, and would, be coming to find you. But he seems to have no qualms about it as he places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“I don’t want to wait any longer, Jamie. I wanted you to kiss me that first day we met.”

So he does as you ask, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. He’s gentle, just like his personality but you have a sneaking suspicion that he might be a little less gentle if you made it clear that’s what you wanted. So you bring your hand around the back of his neck, pushing your body into his. He brings one arm around your lower back, supporting you as you teeter around in an effort to be taller.

Breathless and flushed you pull back from him, eyes fluttering open to look at him. “I think it’s time for me to go home now,” you whisper.

“Why’s that?” Jamie asks, his hands still on your waist.

“That’s all I really came here for,” you tell him, leaning up to press your lips to his again, a quick, gentle kiss this time. You pull away and take a step back, his hands falling from your body.

Just as you turn around to go back inside, to find Roope, to tell him you were going to get an Uber to go home, Jamie’s hand wraps around your wrist. He pulls you back gently, hand sliding on the side of your face, tipping your head back to kiss you again. The feelings it evokes are even stronger than the first kiss and it feels like every nerve in your body is firing, body hot and tingly as he kisses you passionately. “Let me take you out, on a date,” he whispers as he pulls back.

All you can manage to do is nod. Pulling your phone from your pocket you get Jamie to give you his number, sending him a text right there so he has yours. Then you walk back inside, leaving Jamie outside.

By the time you find Roope and you’re back outside to get in your Uber Jamie is gone. You don’t know if he’s back in Tyler’s place or if he’s gone home too. You don’t worry too much about it thought. Because this time you were pretty sure there would actually be another time. Unlike the first meeting, the empty promise of another movie night, this felt much more concrete.

And concrete it was. Jamie had sent you a text the next morning, asking when you were free. You didn’t want to seem too eager so you told him that you were free three nights from that day even though you were free that very night and the night after as well. You two went for dinner, then you went back to your apartment and watched a movie.

After that first date you two both realized that you were truly good with each other. Your conversations flowed easily and you spent so much of the night laughing. You simply enjoyed being together.

So you continued going on dates, for many weeks, months, without telling anyone about it. Neither of you brought up the fact that you were hiding the relationship. It was an unspoken truth. Because you both had a lot to risk. You both had made a promise to Roope. That you weren’t going to give the other a chance and neither of you wanted to own up to breaking that promise.

It was a Friday night and the Stars had just won a home game, a game that you were in the arena to watch. Because Roope asked if you wanted to go, as he often did. But you couldn’t deny that you spent a lot of that game watching Jamie, drawn to him even from such a distance.

Usually you went back to Roope’s place after games, having been given a key to his apartment long ago. He always said it was easier for you to just go straight there but you always figured it was part of his ploy to keep you away from the guys. A hunch that was confirmed when he gave you instructions for where to meet him after the game if you wanted to hang around and wait for him before heading out.

So you followed his instructions, a little uncertain as you made your way from your seat and past the doors you always left after a game. You made your way to where Roope had told you, pulling out your phone and trying to look busy, like you belonged where you were.

A couple minutes later you sense someone is looking at you and you look up, seeing Jamie approaching you with a smile. “Hey,” he says, glancing around before placing his hands on your waist, leaning down.

“Jamie,” you whisper, panic in your eyes and in your voice. “Jamie we’re going to get caught.”

“Roope takes forever,” Jamie informs you, trying to sound reassuring. “He said you were here tonight, I was hoping you would still be here.”

Leaning up you press your lips to his softly. “Oh, so you came out here looking for me then?” you tease.

“Of course,” he tells you. “Are you going to go hang out with Roope tonight?”

Pulling back a little you shrug your shoulders. “It’s usually what we do, but we didn’t talk about it.” You glance behind you before looking back up at Jamie. “Should we go back to my place instead?”

“You and Roope?” Jamie asks with a teasing smile.

Shaking your head you lean back towards him, onto your tip toes. “You know I meant with you,” you whisper, pressing your lips against his. He kisses you back quickly, both of you so caught up in each other that you were quickly losing your motivation to stay away from each other any chance a person might catch you.

But of course the second you let your guard down the slightest bit it all comes tumbling apart.

“Mitä vittua?”

You almost push Jamie away with how quickly you try to get away from him, wide eyes finding Roope. You knew it was him. From the language, both Finnish and the exclamation of ‘what the fuck?’. You’re standing speechless, simply staring at him.

“You promised,” Roope says, shaking his head. “You both did.” And with that he turns away from you, heading in what you assume was the direction of the way out.

“Roope,” you call, pushing past Jamie as you follow after him. “Please, wait, can you please just slow down. We need to talk about this.”

“No, Y/N,” Roope says, getting to the door. You were pretty sure he may have just clocked the record for fastest exit. He finally turns around when his hand is on the door. “You promised me.”

“I didn’t know,” you plead, shaking your head. “I didn’t know he even liked me, I didn’t think anything would happen.”

“I just need to go home.”

The way he says it makes your heart ache. You know it means he doesn’t want you to go with him. You can feel your eyes filling with tears and you try to blink quicker, to hide the tears.

But Roope sees it. Sees your tears. And he can’t handle that, can’t leave you upset. So he steps forward, wrapping his arms around you. “Please don’t be mad. I really like him,” you whisper, tears rolling down your cheeks.

Roope takes a deep breath, you can feel it in the way his chest heaves against you. “I just wished you hadn’t lied to me. Wished you both hadn’t lied to me. How long has this…what is it?”

“Hm?” You hum in confusion, pulling back to look into Roope’s eyes.

“You and Jamie, what are you two?”

You stare over up at Roope in silence. “I…,” you begin, trailing off. “I don’t know.”

“How long?”

“Not long,” you tell him honestly. “Casino Night.”

Roope nods slowly, processing what you had told him. “You’ve been seeing him for months?”

You take a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Are you going to go home with him?”

You stare at Roope, eyes filling with tears again. “I don’t know,” you croak. You didn’t know how to answer that. It’s what you had been planning but you didn’t want to say that, didn’t want to make the situation worse. “Roope, I can’t…I can’t lose you.” You knew what you said to Jamie, that nothing could ever come between you and Roope. But now, being faced with reality, you couldn’t push those fears out of your mind. Because on the list of your biggest fears losing Roope was right up there at the top.

Roope quickly pulls you back into a hug. “Never.”

You sniffle quietly, nodding. “You’re just going to go home?”

Roope pulls back and you notice his eyes are no longer on you, looking over you down the hallway. Slowly you turn around, looking over your shoulder and seeing Jamie. He looked hesitant, uncertain. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

You look back at Roope, eyes pleading for him to reassure you that he wasn’t upset. But he doesn’t. He simply pulls away from you, turning around and heading out through the door, leaving you alone.

You bring your arms around you, hands clutching at your arms. A few minutes later Jamie is in front of you, quickly pulling you into a hug. “It’ll be okay. You said yourself you’re never going to lose him.”

You nod, letting yourself relax into him.

“Don’t know if he’ll be my biggest fan from now on though,” Jamie jokes.

You let out a relieved breath of laughter, glad that he was breaking the intensity. “As long as you don’t hurt me you have nothing to worry about,” you tease, pulling back to look up at him.

“I could never.”

His answer doesn’t feel like a joke and your breath catches in your throat at the sincerity of it. You had been trying to lighten the conversation but you didn’t know if you could make another joke after that. “Should we…”

“Get out of here?”

“Yes,” you answer, eagerly.

You kick off your shoes when you’re in Jamie’s apartment, pressing your back to the wall as you watch Jamie take off his own. “You think he’s going to be okay…with this?”

Jamie looks up from where he had focused his attention on his shoes. “I don’t know,” he replies honestly. Stepping in front of you Jamie places his hands on your hips. “If he doesn’t…”

You swallow heavily, your hands sliding up Jamie’s arms. “Jamie,” you whisper.

He nods and you know the smile on his lips is forced. “I know.”

“It’s not that I don’t care about you. I really, really like you. But he’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember and I can’t…I don’t think I could handle losing him.”

Jamie pulls you closer, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry,” you croak. You wished it didn’t have to be like this and you really wished you didn’t have to say it out loud, didn’t have to tell Jamie that he would always come second to your friendship with Roope.

“Don’t be.” Jamie’s voice is gentle and genuine. You know he’s not lying, that he truly doesn’t want you to be sorry. He’s not upset, it was no no surprise. Anyone who knew you, knew you and Roope’s relationship would know that nobody would, or could, ever come between you two. But it doesn’t make you feel any better. When you look back up at Jamie your eyes are watery, vision blurry. “Come here,” Jamie whisper, pulling you into his chest, large arms wrapped firmly around your body. “Let’s go watch a movie,” Jamie suggests, hands sliding down from your back to the backs of your thighs, leaning down and scooping you off the ground.

“Jamie,” you giggle, legs wrapping around his torso as you clutch onto him. “Put me down.”

“No,” Jamie chuckles, turning around with you in his arms.

While you felt that it was entirely unnecessary for him to be carrying you around you were pretty grateful that he had done something, anything, to break the tension, to make you laugh. “What are we going to watch?” You ask as Jamie carries you the short distance to his living room, leaning down and setting you down on the couch.

“Your choice,” Jamie tells you, handing you the remote. “What do you want for snacks?”

Smiling softly you feel your eyes fill with tears again. You knew you hadn’t been with Jamie long enough to let it get between you and Roope. But things were going so well between you two. He was so considerate, so kind. But he was also fun and he was constantly making you laugh.

“What are you thinking?” Jamie enquires, giving up on the movie and snacks for the time being as he sits beside you. Jamie reaches over, taking your hand and gently running his thumb over the back of your hand.

“It doesn’t matter. I just really like you. There’s nothing we can do about it right now,” you say quietly, blinking rapidly.

Jamie slides his arm around you, tugging you onto his lap. “We’ll figure it out.” You knew it was a lie. It was Roope who was going to figure it out. But you liked the reassurance regardless.

Sliding one of your legs over Jamie’s lap you pull back slightly, leaning in and pressing your lips to his. Jamie kisses you back but you can feel that he’s hesitant. Everything feels slower than normal that night.

Jamie slides his warm hands underneath your shirt, his skin rough in contrast to your soft skin. He pulls gently on your lower back, bringing your body closer to his. You don’t think it’s possible to get any closer as your hands grasp at him, his biceps, shoulders, sliding up to the back of his neck, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Please, Jamie, I need you,” you whisper against his lips, hips grinding down into his.

And that’s all it takes. He has his hands behind your knees, gently sliding you off his lap. Before you know it Jamie is guiding you to his bedroom.

“You’re sure?” Jamie whispers when you’re in the bedroom, his hands on your waist as he guides you over to the bed. “Tonight?” He clarifies, wanting you to consider the ramifications of this. Given everything that happened that night, given the fact that you had already admitted that you would end things with him if Roope couldn’t accept it.

“Yes.”

The next morning you wake up tucked beneath Jamie’s arm, your head on his chest, leg over top of his. For a split second you forget. You forget about the night before. You forget that your relationship could potentially be coming to an end very soon. But it all comes back to you and you roll over onto your back, staring up at the ceiling.

Your movement causes Jamie to stir and he follows your direction, rolling onto his side and wrapping his free arm around you. “Good morning,” Jamie whispers, his voice filled with a sombreness that makes it evident that he hadn’t for a moment forgotten.

“‘Morning,” you whisper, turning your head to look at Jamie. “What do we do now?”

Jamie takes a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling. He seems to be thinking for awhile. “Go out for breakfast, probably.”

You stare at him blankly for a couple minutes. It was such a simple answer. So simple and yet so surprising. “Okay,” you eventually say.

Shortly after you’re sitting across from Jamie at a small cafe, a cup of coffee in front of you and your breakfast orders already taken by the waitress. “Roope texted me,” you say, hesitantly. You didn’t want to ruin the morning, but it was something that needed to be addressed.

“What did he say?” Jamie is fidgeting with the edge of the napkin wrapped around his cutlery.

“Just that he wants to talk.” Before you even think through what you’re doing you reach across the table, grabbing Jamie’s hand. “I’ll go over to his apartment after breakfast.”

Jamie nods, squeezing your hand gently. “Whatever you decide, I’ll understand,” Jamie tells you.

And after that you leave any talk about Roope about the potential end of the relationship behind. You move on, to other topics. You talk about work and hockey and you tell him about the drama in your workplace and he listens intently. He cracks jokes and makes you laugh. And it’s three hours before you actually leave the cafe.

Jamie drives you to the arena where your car was from the night before and you head to Roope’s apartment. The drive seems to go on forever, your nerves building with each passing minute.

Half an hour later you’re sitting on Roope’s couch, legs pulled up to your chest as you stare at him. “I’m sorry, Roope. I’m sorry I lied to you but I’m not sorry that I’ve been seeing Jamie,” you begin.

Roope is quiet, elbows on his knees as he leans forward, eyes on the ground. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Once he looks up you shrug. There was no easy answer. You were confused, conflicted. You were scared. Scared that Roope wouldn’t approve. Scared that you would end up in this exact situation. “I knew you would tell me it couldn’t happen.”

“You don’t know that-.”

“Yes, I do,” you exclaim. You weren’t about to let him sit there and tell you he would have just let it happen. “You’ve never approved of a single guy I was seeing. You made me promise and now I wished I had never agreed. I wish I could go back to that day and tell you the truth, Roope. Tell you that you have no right, you have no right to tell me who I can and can’t see. You’re one of the most important people in my life. I love you. I trust you. But none of that means you get to tell me who I’m not allowed to date.” Even you’re shocked by the outburst but the way Roope physically recoils in his chair tells you that it was the last thing he was expecting.

“I-,” Roope begins, falling speechless. “You’re right,” he eventually mutters. “I just, I don’t want you to get hurt. What if something happens? How am I supposed to deal with that?”

“You don’t need to deal with it,” you tell him. “If something happens then that’s between Jamie and I, you won’t be involved. We’re adults, we’ll figure it out ourselves.”

Roope groans, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. “Why him? Of all people…why him?” Roope whines, making you giggle.

“Because he’s sweet and funny and so hot.”

“Gross,” Roope mutters, turning his head to look at you. “Will you promise me something?”

“What is it?” The last promise he had you make regarding Jamie didn’t go so well.

“You won’t talk about how hot he is again.”

“I don’t think I can do that,” you laugh.

Roope chuckles and you can feel the tension in the room dissipating. You weren’t naive enough to think that he was completely okay with it. But you were okay with that. You were okay with him needing time as long as it meant that he wasn’t giving you an ultimatum to end things with Jamie. You knew it was all you could ask for right now and you were happy enough just with that.

#jamie oleksiak #jamie oleksiak imagine #jamie oleksiak fic #jamie oleksiak fanfic #jamie oleksiak one shot #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars fic #dallas stars #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #nhl one shot #nhl imagines #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey fanfic

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btsslowburnfic · 4 years ago

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BTBY Ch. 18

Series Summary: For Namjoon, the moment he set his sights on being the #1 rapper, he pushed the symbol to the side and hated it. Love should be chosen, not forced on you. He didn’t believe in fate and this mark on his wrist was a big “fuck you” to all that.

AN: Sorry the taglist hasn’t been working. I’ve started tagging my local to check -_- Let’s get these two back together, what do y’all say?? Previous chapter here --------------

Time passed on with you living on Joe and Xavier’s couch. You had gotten into the habit of texting Namjoon on a semi-regular basis. Sometimes about important stuff, but mostly, and surprisingly it was about dumb shit. He would send you photos from the cities where they were touring or of food. It was finally your turn to return the favor.

Joe and Xavier got married a few months after you moved in. Joe was offered a position with a Broadcasting company in New York City that was too good to pass up, and so the three of you all packed up and began the long drive to your new two bedroom apartment in New Jersey.

NJ: What exactly am I looking at here?

Y/N: The World’s Largest Mailbox.

NJ:.........

Y/N: And here is the World’s Largest rocking chair.

NJ: Why am I looking at these things?

Y/N: Haha, haven’t you ever been on a road trip? We’re stopping to see weird things along the way.

NJ: No. I haven’t. My family always vacationed in the same places growing up and management shuttles us around.

Y/N: ha! Well next time you come to the USA I am sneaking you out for a road trip.

NJ: You’ll have to do all the driving sweetheart, I don’t have a license.

Y/N: Waaaat?! Really? Fine. You can be in charge of navigating.

NJ: That is also a bad idea but I admire your excitement. G2g, interviews. So. Many. Interviews.

You smiled and put the phone back into your purse. You had saved a table for the three of you in the diner next to the World's Largest wind chime.

“More coffee, honey?” The waitress asked, holding the regular and decaf pots as she made the rounds.

“Yes please. And 2 more menus. My friends are walking over now.”

“Sure thing.”

You put your hands around the cup, enjoying the feeling of warmth spreading through your fingers. It was early in the morning and you were trying to give them some private time in the hotel room so you had left early to do sightseeing in the small town of Casey, Illinois. It had not disappointed with it’s array of random big shit.

You heard the bell ding and saw the two men enter, looking sleepy but happy. You didn’t need to wave seeing as there were only ten tables in the whole place, but you did so anyways out of habit.

They sat across from you, as the server walked over and handed them some menus. “Good morning fellas. What can I get you to drink?”

“Coffee.” They responded in unison and then laughed.

“You got it.” She walked away from the table.

“Did you guys check out the windchime?” You asked.

Xavier squinted at you, “Darling, you are way too happy for this early in the morning. No. I have not looked at a windchime.”

Joe put his arm around his husband’s shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll look after we have breakfast though. Why are you in such a great mood this early?”

“No reason. I guess I just think the town is cute and weird.” Your phone pinged.

“You’ve been talking to your boyfriend-not boyfriend.” Xavier said.

You rolled your eyes at first but then a smile crept across your face, “Well I guess I was excited to finally have some pictures worth sharing. He always sends pictures from everywhere that look super cool. And I never have anything other than coffee and LA traffic. Which he has already seen. So unimpressive.”

The waitress dropped the coffee off at the table and then took the food order. You took your phone out and snuck a peek while Xavier and Joe were discussing the merits of turkey sausage versus regular.

NJ: You should come see me sometime.

Your eyes grew wide and you threw your phone back in your purse as though it was made of poison. That was a sudden shift in conversation.

“What the hell?” Xavier laughed.

Your eyes remained wide as you looked at both of them. You had imagined visiting him, but to you it was just a pipe dream. Your texts were never romantic in nature or anything. The two of you never mentioned the soulmark or the nights you had spent together or anything, You bit your lip nervously. “He asked me to come visit him. After we get all settled in New York.”

“Fucking go. Book that flight now.” Xavier exclaimed loudly, drawing a few looks from some of the older locals.

You laughed nervously. “Why so we can awkwardly hang out, have sex, and then never speak of it again? I’ve already done that twice.”

“Yes. That is a great reason to go.” Joe deadpanned. “Absolutely. Go get that soulmate dick. Oh also, because you like him and you would get to see a different part of the world. And you’re between jobs right now. I can’t think of a reason not to go.”

You took a sip of your coffee. “I’ll think about it.”

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

“Has anyone seen my phone?” Namjoon asked. The other guys had been in the break room for a while, but as the leader he had a few more duties he needed to tend to before he could be done for the evening. The interviews had finally wrapped up for the day. They had done 6 online ones back to back. 3 in English and 3 in Korean. He was exhausted from translating and answering questions. The guys were always extra chaotic during the English interviews.

“I think it’s over on the table.” Hoseok replied, sending some messages on his own phone.

Jimin got up quickly, pulling V along with him,“ we ordered food. See you guys later.” They left the room.

Yoongi was sitting at the table texting as well, “I’m hungry too. Why didn’t they invite me?” He pouted.

Namjoon picked up the phone to see if you had sent him any more weird pictures. He felt bad sending you pictures all the time from all over the world. He felt like a spoiled brat. He knew they had worked hard to get to where they were, but the fame and success and everything that came along with it still felt so foreign to him. He unlocked the phone and checked the messages.

“What the fuck?” He looked up from his phone. “Jimin! Taehyung!” He yelled. Of course it was pointless. ”Yoongi? Can you unsend a message once it’s sent?”

Yoongi blinked slowly, he was also tired and confused by Namjoon’s sudden yelling. “Why are you asking me? I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“What did they do?” Jungkook, who had been quietly sitting on the couch next to Jin asked, his big doe eyes full of concern.

Namjoon scrunched up his face and wiped it with his hand, pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose. “They texted Y/N and told her I wanted her to visit.”

Jin let out a surprised laugh, “Oh my God.”

*Jungshook*

“Well you want to see her don’t you?” Yoongi said calmly

“I mean I do but she doesn’t want to see me. Remember? She left.” He replied. He was going to kill them. Maybe the IT staff at BigHit could help him. He grabbed his coat, determined to find out.

“She left in the middle of the night because it’s hard to say goodbye. You’re the one who left the country.” Yoongi said, putting his phone down.

Namjoon looked over, sighing. His phone pinged.

Y/N: Maybe ^_^ I don’t start work for a little bit after we get moved in. Let me know your schedule! I got my passport renewed.

Namjoon stood there opening and shutting his mouth a few times.

The room stayed quiet for several seconds.

“Did she answer you?” Jungkook tentatively asked.

Namjoon slipped his phone into his pocket and ran a hand through his hair. “She did. She wants to know my schedule.”

Yoongi got up. “Great. Jimin and Tae can live. I’m going to go join them for food.” NEXT CHAPTER @calling-dips-on-j-hope @ghostkat23 @cuteipat @marianeamine @thisisval @almonte12 @themisunderstoodblackswan @bobbyboops @betysotelo18 @katerbees

#bts fic #bts writing #bts scenarios #bts rm fanfic #bts namjoon x reader #bts rm x reader #bts rm x you #bts rm scenario #namjoon scenarios #namjoon imagine #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x you #bts namjoon #rm x reader #rm x y/n

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heartofether · 3 years ago

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Episode 13 - Dog with a Bone TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts, or go to our “Listen” page if you’re on desktop.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

[INCREASINGLY SLOWLY] Please state your message.

[THEME SONG PLAYS.]

VAL

Three-eyed Frog Presents: The Heart of Ether.

[THEME SONG FADES TO A STOP.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[INT. AGENTS MAY AND JUNES’ COMPANY VEHICLE, DRIVING INTO DAUGHTLER, WASHINGTON, MIDDAY.]

[THE TWO ARE HEARD DRIVING THROUGH THE TOWN.]

AGENT MAY

This is the audio log of Operation Saturn, phase 1.2. Investigation taking place in Daughtler, Washington, 2019. Set to last for two months minimum. This is day one. Conducted by Agents May and June. All recordings are legal property of the Harper Foundation. Any unauthorized access to these recordings will result in—

AGENT JUNE

[OVERLAPPING] Does Daughtler know no God? That church is crumbling like a communion wafer!

AGENT MAY

Agent June.

AGENT JUNE

I’m just saying! You’d think for a place of worship, they’d take better care of it. Basic maintenance, maybe a new paint job.

AGENT MAY

Well, I guess the people of Daughtler aren’t particularly religious.

AGENT JUNE

Oh, not that I care. I’m an atheist. Raised in a Catholic household, which went about as well as—

AGENT MAY

Look, in the future, could you please avoid speaking over me when we’re recording important information?

AGENT JUNE

What important information? We just got here.

AGENT MAY

Well, if we’re going to be constantly on the record, I would like to maintain some level of professionalism.

AGENT JUNE

Ahh. Hate to break it to you, bud, but if you expect me to shut up for this whole mission, I think you will be greatly disappointed. I am, you see, constantly burdened by great ideas—trust me, it’s exhausting.

AGENT MAY

[SARCASTIC] I’m sure it is.

AGENT JUNE

[AFTER A BRIEF PAUSE, HE SNORTS A LAUGH.] DVD rentals? Dude, who’s renting DVDs in the digital era of pirating—I mean, uh, legally buying and streaming everything online?

AGENT MAY

[DEADPAN] Nice catch.

AGENT JUNE

Anyways, where are we heading first? I’m guessing the motel?

AGENT MAY

Actually, we’re going to make a quick detour. Stop somewhere for a quick interview.

AGENT JUNE

[HE GROANS.] Seriously, dude? We have so much time to do that kind of stuff. Can’t we just, you know, relax for our first day? Settle into Weird Town, USA?

AGENT MAY

I’d like to start this mission off on a good foot. It would be valuable to meet some of the residents, see what they’re like. Besides, this particular individual is important enough that by establishing a relationship early on, it may be beneficial in the long run.

AGENT JUNE

Ugh, fine. Who is our person of the hour, then?

AGENT MAY

Actually, it’s less about the person and more about where they’re living.

[A BEAT.]

AGENT JUNE

Yeah, dude. Obviously. They’re living in Daughtler, Washington. You know, the place we’re investigating?

AGENT MAY

[OVERLAPPING] I mean their house.

Agent June, please, please tell me you know who Bernard Kelly Valencia is.

AGENT JUNE

Obviously, dude! That’s like asking a chemistry student if they know what an electron is. [THEN, UNDER HIS BREATH] Actually, I failed chemistry, so maybe that isn’t the best analogy.

But yeah. Bernard Kelly Valencia. Super weird dude that the entire town was kinda freaked by. Supposedly was well-known among the Ether community for his vast range of research conducted with Dorothy Wood. Nobody actually knows where all that work went after he and Dorothy died, though.

AGENT MAY

Actually, it’s possible some of it was left behind in his own house.

AGENT JUNE

Wait, seriously? Didn’t all of his belongings go to his son afterwards?

AGENT MAY

According to the original house plans, there’s an attic. His son, after leaving the house once and for all, never mentioned there being anything in the attic. This could mean it was just empty, but that fact would have to have been noted at some point. His son was thorough in his complaints about clearing his father’s house, from what we could find. It’s possible nobody ever even bothered to look up there.

AGENT JUNE

So you think he had something in his attic that just never got found?

AGENT MAY

That’s what the Foundation believes.

AGENT JUNE

Alrighty, then. That’s not too bad. We just break into a dead guy’s house and pillage through his attic. I mean, how hard can that be?

AGENT MAY

It’s not that simple. There’s a new tenant living there.

AGENT JUNE

Ahh, I see. Do you think they know?

AGENT MAY

Perhaps. There was a recent missing person report linked to the house—an inspector who the landlord sent out to investigate a supposed mold problem.

AGENT JUNE

Classic.

AGENT MAY

Which leads us to believe that the new tenant is at least familiar with Ether—assuming the mold problem was of supernatural origin, which is probable due to the house’s location and the report filed by the landlord describing the mold: yellow, with an odd scent.

AGENT JUNE

So, what’s our plan? Are we just going to go and ask to search the house?

AGENT MAY

Unfortunately, the Foundation couldn’t acquire a formal search warrant. We’ll have to convince the new tenant to let us in of their own free will.

AGENT JUNE

Who is this person, anyways?

AGENT MAY

Her name is Irene Gray. She’s twenty-one years old. Works as forestry aid.

AGENT JUNE

Do we know anything else about her?

AGENT MAY

Let’s just say the mold inspector isn’t the only missing persons case she’s connected to. Four years ago, an 18-year-old girl named Rosemary Quinn went missing. Officials think it’s likely she ran away. Irene Gray was Rosemary’s girlfriend. The police’s interview with Irene states that the two of them had planned on running away together not long after the date Rosemary had gone missing.

AGENT JUNE

Way to rat your girlfriend out like that.

AGENT MAY

She could have been desperate for any sort of lead, even if that meant getting herself and Rosemary in trouble. And she did get in trouble, I believe, though not with the law, per say. Irene couldn’t have known where Rosemary had gone, though. She was so emotionally devastated after the event, there was little chance she was faking it or lying to cover for Rosemary. She actually started therapy not long after.

AGENT JUNE

So, why does it matter? Did they ever find Rosemary?

AGENT MAY

Unfortunately, no. The official record states that the last place she was potentially seen was a local animal shelter, where she dropped off her cat, whose name she said was Sage. This, however, does not sync up with reports from her family claiming the cat’s name was Sir Griffin the Third, which led to some uncertainty. They had a difficult time tracking her after that, though. All they had to go off of was one potential gas station siting, but all that resulted in was another dead end.

AGENT JUNE

Uh, you still haven’t explained why any of this matters.

AGENT MAY

[FRUSTRATED] Could you just be patient for one— [HE HUFFS A SIGH.]

Look, it’s important because it’s unlikely Irene Gray will let us explore her house if we just ask nicely.

AGENT JUNE

So, we have to use bait?

AGENT MAY

It could be a mutually beneficial relationship, is what I’m saying. We both have something the other wants.

AGENT JUNE

Wait, does the Foundation, like, know what happened to that girl?

AGENT MAY

Not quite, but, potentially. I’ll show you what we have once we stop the car.

AGENT JUNE

Great! This should be interesting.

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] I’m sure it will be.

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[INT. IRENE GRAY’S HOUSE, MIDDAY.]

[IRENE IS ON A PHONE CALL WITH ADEN. ON HIS END OF THE LINE, THERE IS THE LOOPING SOUND OF A BROKEN FAX MACHINE ATTEMPTING, BUT FAILING, TO PROCESS PAPER.]

IRENE

It’s a fax machine. How do you not know how to use a fax machine? I’ve literally watched you do it before.

ADEN

Well, I thought I knew! And I mean, come on, how come you get to judge me when you can’t even use your phone properly?

IRENE

Oh, my god—Aden, it’s my day off. Can’t you just look it up?

ADEN

I don’t know how to describe the problem in a way a search engine will understand. It’s too—you know—specific.

IRENE

Ask someone there, then. Carol and Julia probably know better than I do.

ADEN

Julia’s sick, and Carol’s on some important phone call. Look, I just—if we have to replace this thing and it’s my fault, I’m going to freak out—

IRENE

Okay, wait until Carol gets off the phone and then—

ADEN

[WORRIED] What if it sets on fire or something?

IRENE

[FRUSTRATED] It won’t! It’s probably just jammed.

ADEN

But what if it does?

IRENE

[SNAPPING] Jeez, dude, just go find the manual! Why are you calling me?

ADEN

[PANICKED, STUTTERING] Because I’m panicking, alright? Look, ever, ever since the mold incident, I’ve been so scared constantly of everything. Every tiny thing that happens feels like it’s the end of the world, especially because that dude’s van went missing and it’s like you guys are just constantly waiting for the police to just show up at your door—

IRENE

[HER TONE SOFTENS, GROWING SYMPATHETIC] Oh, Aden—

ADEN

[CONT.] —and you and Carol almost died, and I did nothing. Okay? I sat in my office and talked to the knitted cat on my desk while I had a panic attack and did nothing.

I just want to find some way to, to do good, to fix something, but instead I think I ruined the fax machine and now I’m just failing you and Carol, again.

IRENE

[CHOOSING HER WORDS CAREFULLY] Hey. Look, I—I’m sorry I snapped. It’s not…it’s not that big of a deal.

ADEN

[COMING DOWN, GUILTILY] No, no, you’re right. I shouldn’t have called you on your day off.

IRENE

It’s fine. Seriously, don’t worry about it. Do you need me to go down there and look at it?

ADEN

No, don’t. I’m kinda starting to calm down, and I think if I can’t find the manual, I’ll just wait until Carol gets off the phone.

IRENE

That’s a good idea.

[A BEAT.] Um, if you need a distraction or anything, we can still talk for a bit. I know how anxiety can be.

ADEN

[SINCERE] That means a lot, Irene. Thank you.

IRENE

Of course.

Is there anything in particular you want to talk about?

ADEN

[A BEAT, THEN, HESITANT] I actually have a question. I’ve been thinking about it for a bit, but if it’s too personal, you don’t have to answer.

IRENE

I mean, I think you’ve already seen me at some pretty low points, so…

ADEN

[HE CHUCKLES.] Alright.

[CAREFULLY] You said you had a girlfriend who went missing.

IRENE

[A BEAT.] Yup.

ADEN

What was her name?

IRENE

[A HESITANT BEAT.] Rose. Er, you may have seen the name Rosemary Quinn at some point, but it was years ago.

ADEN

Yeah, I don’t remember. Sorry.

IRENE

It’s fine.

ADEN

What happened to her?

[THERE’S A PAUSE.]

IRENE

[GRIM] We never found out.

For a long time, I’ve thought that she just decided she was sick of her life as it was. Ran away to start a new one without telling anyone where she went. It would have made sense—she had planned on doing it for a while. Even took cash from her savings out in chunks so nobody would be able to track her card when she did. Her mother simply wrote this off as poorly thought-out impulse purchases.

We had planned our entire future together, though, and for her to just throw it out didn’t make sense, it—well… [SHE TRAILS OFF.]

ADEN

I’m sorry.

IRENE

I thought it was her mom at first, though. Grace Quinn. [SHE SAYS THE NAME WITH VENOM.]

They investigated Grace for domestic abuse. Believed Rose ran away to escape a dangerous situation. Upon Rose not answering her bedroom door, Grace, well…broke it down. Rose had locked it before she went out the window, and her mother just—decimated the doorknob to get in. At least, that’s what the police report says.

ADEN

Jeez.

IRENE

Without the child there, however, it was difficult to prove any abuse. I had some texts. Her aunts had a couple of anecdotes. That was all, though. Grace refused to admit to anything, of course.

ADEN

[HESITANT] Was there? Um, was there abuse?

IRENE

[A BEAT.] Yeah.

ADEN

I’m so sorry.

IRENE

It was rarely ever physical, but it definitely happened.

ADEN

I mean, if Rose was trying to escape something, I hope she was safe in the end.

IRENE

[PAUSE, THEN, SOFTLY, ALMOST SAD] I do, too.

[A BEAT.] That wasn’t all, though. Grace acted really strange afterwards. When police asked what had happened the night before, she said she couldn’t remember. Seriously, she didn’t have any concrete details. She said she had just woken up that morning and Rose was gone, but her story kept changing in little ways. It was disorienting.

She seemed…paranoid. Jumpy. Confused, even. Angry, but her anger wasn’t directed anywhere. I might have felt bad for her if just the thought of her hadn’t made my blood boil. I mean, I imagine your daughter going missing has gotta have some sort of effect on you, even if you’re not on good terms with her.

Grace wasn’t entirely there, though. Looking back, it’s a lot more clear. I…know some things, I didn’t know back then. I just, I wonder what was really wrong with her. I haven’t talked to her in years. Certainly not about to start now.

ADEN

I mean, I kinda sympathize with her, but also, she doesn’t sound like a great person.

IRENE

Oh no, she’s horrible. I know I should feel some remorse for all the awful things I’ve said about her, but I don’t. Not really.

When Rose first went missing, I became blinded by rage. I screamed at Grace when I saw her. Cursed in her face. Said it was all her fault, because I was—well, I was scared, and I had no other explanation. My dad had to drag me away before I attacked her.

ADEN

Jeez, Irene.

IRENE

I’m obviously better about my anger management now. Therapy at least did that for me.

ADEN

I mean, I get it. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you.

IRENE

Yeah. Um, yeah. [IT SOUNDS LIKE THERE’S SOMETHING ELSE SHE WANTS TO SAY.]

Thanks, Aden.

ADEN

Of course. If you…I mean, I know it’s been a while, but you can always talk to me about it. I’ve said that before, but, y’know.

IRENE

I appreciate it.

[A PAUSE.]

ADEN

I think Carol’s call ended.

IRENE

[TEASING] And did the fax machine catch on fire?

ADEN

[HE LAUGHS.] No. No, it did not.

[IRENE LAUGHS. ANOTHER PAUSE.]

IRENE

[MORE SERIOUS] Aden?

ADEN

Yeah?

IRENE

I’m…I’m working on something. It’s a personal project.

ADEN

[CAUGHT OFF GUARD] Oh. Okay.

IRENE

I don’t think I can tell you what it’s about, but…just so you know. I mean, I trust you, so.

ADEN

That’s—um, that’s fine. Uh, let me know if I can help at all?

IRENE

Sure. I’ll talk to you later.

[AS THEY SPEAK, THERE’S APPROACHING FOOTSTEPS ON ADEN’S END OF THE LINE.]

ADEN

You, too. Thank you again for talking.

IRENE

Not a problem. Bye.

ADEN

Talk to you soon!

CAROL

[IN THE DISTANCE] What did you do to the damn—?

[PHONE BEEP AS ADEN HANGS UP. IRENE SIGHS.]

IRENE

[CONFUSED] Oh, uh. Didn’t realize my phone was recording. [MUTTERS] When did that start? Guess I turned it on at some point.

[A BEAT.] Well, Rose. I’m talking to you now. Not just some figment of you in my head, but, you.

I know you’re going to hear these. I don’t know when, but you will. Of course you will.

[A BEAT.] Only problem is, I’m kind of at a dead end. My only lead so far is a mysterious recording that popped up on my laptop with no explanation. I have no idea how any of those files got there. Do I just have to wait until whatever weird force that gives them to me decides to throw one my way?

It’s like gambling at that point. I don’t know when I’ll get something or if what I find will be helpful or not. I mean, hell, I could get a new file on my computer and it’ll just be some voicemail I sent you sophomore year about baking brownies. Who knows what I’ll find or when I’ll find it?

I have to figure out something more reliable. Maybe figure out where the recordings are coming from, and if I can use whatever it is to my advantage. Or, I don’t know, Phoebe is coming over at some point to look in my attic. Maybe I should just—

[THERE’S A KNOCK AT THE FRONT DOOR.]

IRENE

…huh. Wasn’t expecting anyone.

[IRENE IS HEARD GETTING UP AND WALKING TOWARDS THE DOOR. AS SHE APPROACHES, THE AGENT'S MUFFLED ARGUING IS HEARD, GROWING LOUDER AS SHE GROWS NEAR.]

AGENT JUNE

[MUFFLED] I'm just saying, it could be pretty cool, you know? I'm all like, "Ooh, ahh, no, tell us what we wanna know, and you're like—"

AGENT MAY

[MUFFLED, OVERLAPPING ] June, you're too impressionable by all of these movies that you watch.

[IRENE OPENS THE DOOR, BUT THEY CONTINUE AS IF SHE ISN'T THERE.]

AGENT JUNE

[CONT.] No, no, listen. It could be great, it could be great! We could like, stand back to back, and like, ooh, finger guns—

AGENT MAY

No, I'm not doing finger guns!

IRENE

[OVERLAPPING] Um, can I help you?

AGENT JUNE

[TO AGENT MAY] Okay, but just try it—

AGENT MAY

[HARSHLY CUTTING HIM OFF.] Yes, actually. Is this the residence of Irene Gray?

IRENE

[SKEPTICAL] Who’s asking?

[AGENT MAY IS HEARD FLASHING HIS BADGE.]

AGENT MAY

We’re Agents May and June of The Harper Foundation. We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.

IRENE

The hell is that?

AGENT JUNE

Ah, see, that’s the point: you’re not supposed to know. [A BEAT.] I mean, well, we do leave kind of cryptic ads in the local paper sometimes, but, still.

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] Agent June.

AGENT JUNE

What? I don’t choose to put those weird ads there!

IRENE

[UNIMPRESSED] …so, what, you’re secret agents?

AGENT MAY

If you’d like to call us that. May we come in?

IRENE

Why?

AGENT MAY

We just need to ask you about a few things. I promise it won’t be long.

IRENE

…are you going to, what, search my house?

AGENT JUNE

You got something to hide?

IRENE

[DEFENSIVE] No! I’m sorry that I value my privacy.

AGENT MAY

We’re not searching your house right now. This will be much easier for all of us if you comply, Ms. Gray.

IRENE

[SHE THINKS FOR A MOMENT, THEN, DISGRUNTLED] Fine.

AGENT MAY

Thank you.

[IRENE IS HEARD LEADING THE AGENTS INTO HER HOUSE, CLOSING THE DOOR BEHIND THEM. THEIR FOOTSTEPS ARE HEARD AS THEY ENTER.]

AGENT JUNE

It’s a nice place you got here. Oh, wow, did you paint that yourself?

IRENE

It was a gift.

AGENT JUNE

Ah, gotcha, gotcha.

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS THEY STOP WALKING.]

IRENE

Well? Take a seat. Be my guest.

[AGENTS MAY AND JUNE ARE HEARD SITTING AT THE TABLE. THERE ARE TWO LOUD THUNKING NOISES, AS IF SOMEONE IS HITTING THE TABLE.]

AGENT MAY

Agent June, take your feet off the table.

AGENT JUNE

Sorry, sorry.

[SHUFFLING NOISES AS AGENT JUNE MOVES HIS FEET.]

IRENE

Can I get you both anything to drink?

AGENT JUNE

There are your manners!

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] You’re one to talk.

AGENT JUNE

Whatcha got?

IRENE

Um, water? I could make coffee? I also have lemonade in the fridge, but that’s for emergencies.

[A PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

I think I’m in the mood for an emergency lemonade. You, Agent May?

AGENT MAY

I’m fine, thanks.

[AS THEY CONTINUE THE CONVERSATION, IRENE IS HEARD GRABBING THE LEMONADE OUT OF THE FRIDGE, TAKING A GLASS FROM THE CUPBOARD, AND POURING JUNE'S DRINK.]

AGENT MAY

How long have you lived here, Ms. Gray?

IRENE

Not long. I moved here for work.

AGENT MAY

And what do you do?

IRENE

[HASTILY] I’m an engineer.

AGENT JUNE

Mm! Enjoying the area so far?

IRENE

It’s nice. The people are friendly.

[SHE SETS AGENT JUNE’S LEMONADE DOWN ON THE TABLE.]

AGENT JUNE

Much obliged.

[HE TAKES A DRINK LOUDLY. IRENE SITS DOWN ACROSS FROM THE TWO OF THEM.]

IRENE

…well? You said you had questions.

AGENT MAY

We’re here to ask you about a missing person.

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

IRENE

Which one?

AGENT MAY

Which one are you thinking of?

IRENE

[SHE PAUSES.] Are you talking about Rosemary Quinn?

AGENT MAY

[A TENTATIVE PAUSE.] You and Rosemary were close, correct?

IRENE

Why do you care?

AGENT MAY

I’m asking a question. An answer would be nice.

IRENE

[HESITANT] I knew Rose, yeah.

AGENT MAY

When was the last time you saw her?

IRENE

Um, it was two days before her disappearance, I believe?

Look, this should all be on her file. I don’t see the need to recount this all to you unless they’ve opened the case again. Hell, you’re not even cops, are you?

AGENT JUNE

Oh, don’t be that way, Irene. I know this case isn’t as recent as the other one you’re involved with, but you should be able to remember, right?

IRENE

The—

[THERE'S A LOW, EERIE INSTRUMENTAL AS IRENE'S BLOOD RUNS COLD.]

IRENE

[BLUFFING] What other case?

[AGENT MAY SLIDES A PIECE OF PAPER ACROSS THE TABLE.]

AGENT MAY

You were the last person to see this man, correct?

IRENE

I, um, I don’t know him, no.

AGENT JUNE

You’re not as good at lying as you think you are, you know.

[HE'S HEARD FLIPPING OVER A PIECE OF PAPER TO EXAMINE IT.]

AGENT JUNE

[CONT.] I mean, why lie to us about your job, anyways? There’s no shame in being a forestry aid. I’m sure it’s a lovely profession.

IRENE

Who the hell are you people?

AGENT MAY

Relax, Irene. The Harper Foundation has already taken care of his vehicle and rerouted the case so it doesn’t trace back to you. Investigators will come up with a dead-end soon enough, and nobody will know what you did.

AGENT JUNE

You’re welcome for that.

IRENE

I— [THEN, GUILTILY] I didn’t kill him.

AGENT MAY

I’m sure you didn’t. That’s not important right now. We’re just trying to give you a nudge in the right direction so maybe then you’ll be inclined to tell us the truth.

IRENE

Why? What do you want from me?

AGENT MAY

If you’d give me a moment to speak, then I can explain.

[IRENE HUFFS A SIGH, BUT LETS AGENT MAY SPEAK. HE FLIPS OPEN A FOLDER.]

AGENT MAY

Are you aware of this house’s previous tenant?

IRENE

You mean Bernard Kelly Valencia? His reputation precedes him, but I never knew the guy.

AGENT MAY

That’s correct. We believe he left something behind after he died, however. Something that could be incredibly beneficial for the Foundation. Have you found anything like that?

[IRENE STAYS SILENT.]

AGENT JUNE

[WHISPERS TO AGENT MAY] I think she’s trying to plead the fifth.

AGENT MAY

We expected such stubbornness. We’re not asking you for this for free, you know. We believe we may also have something that would be beneficial for you.

IRENE

And, what is that, exactly?

AGENT MAY

I’m glad you asked.

[HE'S HEARD HANDING A PAPER TO IRENE. MYSTERIOUS MUSIC BEGINS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.]

AGENT MAY

Sometime in July, the same year Rosemary Quinn disappeared, a dusty yellow bicycle was found in the middle of nowhere in Oregon. It appeared to have had a broken piece in the front where a basket was supposed to be attached. It was never brought to the police, so unfortunately, it could never be examined as possible evidence.

AGENT JUNE

Hiker who found it posted about it on Twitter, though. The guy didn’t have many followers, so it never got traction.

AGENT MAY

This photo was taken not too far from Bent. If this is Rosemary’s bicycle, it could mean that we have a possible travel path for her after her disappearance.

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

Oh, that was quite the shift in your expression, Irene. Have we struck a nerve? [MELODRAMATIC] I guess young love tends to leave such sore, open wounds, doesn’t it?

AGENT MAY

If you let us look at whatever it is Mr. Valencia left behind, we can help you find Rosemary Quinn. It may take some time, but we believe we can determine what happened to her. We just need your help.

[THE MUSIC STOPS. THERE'S A LONG PAUSE.]

IRENE

Get out.

[SHE'S HEARD GETTING OUT OF HER CHAIR.]

AGENT JUNE

Wh—hey!

IRENE

[GROWING MORE UPSET] Get out, I said. Get out!

[AS SHE SPEAKS, SHE'S HEARD PHYSICALLY GRABBING THE AGENTS AND PUSHING THEM OUT OF HER HOUSE. WHILE SHE'S AT IT, SHE GRABS THEIR FOLDERS AS WELL, THOUGH ONE PAPER STAYS BEHIND.]

AGENT JUNE

Hey, no, stop! You can't just grab our things like that! Please.

AGENT MAY

[OVERLAPPING, STUTTERING] Hey—!

[BOTH AGENTS STUMBLE OUTSIDE. IRENE IS HEARD THROWING THEIR PAPERS OUT THE DOOR.]

AGENT JUNE

Woah!

AGENT MAY

That's confidential information, you can't keep that in your house—

[SHE CUTS HIM OFF BY SLAMMING THE DOOR. THERE'S A PAUSE AS SHE BEGINS PACING THE FLOOR.]

IRENE

Who the hell do they think they are? Do they think I’m just some sort of—some sort of tool for them to use? Do they think they can dangle Rose over my head like I’m a dog with a bone, all over some—

[SHE PICKS THE PICTURE UP OFF THE TABLE, STOPPING HER PACING]

IRENE

Some picture of a bicycle?

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS IRENE STARES AT THE PHOTO, BEGINNING TO CALM DOWN.]

IRENE

[CAUTIOUS HOPE.] Is this really your bike, Rose? Why would you tear the basket off? You loved that basket. [WANDERING INTO DAYDREAM TERRITORY] You’d put flowers I got you in it and then ride around your block. Said it made you feel like you were in a painting.

[A BEAT.] Maybe I shouldn’t have kicked them—

[THERE’S ANOTHER KNOCK AT THE DOOR. IRENE STORMS BACK OVER TO IT.]

IRENE

[YELLING] I told you to get out! I’m not some stupid—

[SHE OPENS THE DOOR, AND REALIZES IT'S NOT THE AGENTS.]

IRENE

[EMBARRASSED] …dog.

TEEN

Well, I sure hope you’re not.

IRENE

[AWKWARDLY] Um, hi. Sorry, it’s just, someone else was just over and—

TEEN

Those two dudes? Yeah, they didn’t look very happy. That one guy, the one who had his tie undone for some reason, he had to chase one of the papers down the street. It was really funny.

IRENE

You were watching?

TEEN

Well, I didn’t realize you had a line going out your door of people waiting to talk to you.

IRENE

[DEADPAN] I’m new to the famous life.

TEEN

You’ll get used to it, I’m sure.

IRENE

Well, are you here to interview me and talk about my darkest secrets?

TEEN

That would be cool, wouldn’t it?

IRENE

[DISGRUNTLED] Not after the day I’ve had.

TEEN

Well, you see, I’ve actually been dying to meet you. My mom told me about you, said she met you at the store. I don’t know if you remember her, but from what she told me, it sounds like maybe you could use a bit of help.

IRENE

Your m— [IN SHOCKED AWE] Oh my god, are you the meat lady’s kid?

AVERY

Actually, my name is Avery.

Wanna grab lunch sometime?

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Today's quote is: "Most of the people are homesick anyway, and a little lonely, and they hide themselves in their hair and are turned into flowers."

Tove Jansson in Sculptor's Daughter, 1968.

[A PAUSE AS A HOLLOW NOISE BEGINS TO GROW IN THE BACKGROUND, FOLLOWED BY STATIC.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

[SLOWLY, AS IF STRAINED] Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can feel it—

[THE VOICE IS CUT OFF BY STATIC.]

[OUTRO MUSIC & CREDITS PLAY.]

[AN EXTENDED PIANO VERSION OF THE NIGHT POST’S OPENING THEME PLAYS IN THE BACKGROUND.]

NIGHT POST PROMO

Hello there, citizen. You’ve lived in Gilt City for a while now. Maybe you’ve wondered, when you wake in the morning and retrieve the letters tucked neatly into your postbox, just where your mail comes from. It comes from the Night Post, of course. Those faithful couriers deliver it while you’re sleeping--all the better that they stay out of sight, and keep the unseemly strangeness that follows them out of our city, in the Skelter, where it belongs.

Ahem. If, for some reason, you’d like to know more about Gilt City’s conscripted couriers and the burden that chose them, their secret hopes and fears, the ancient, untamed threats that hound them on their nocturnal journeys--you have only to listen. The Night Post is a supernatural audio drama by an all-LGBT team, delivered weekly, in dead of night, to wherever you listen to podcasts.

Find answers at nightpostpod.com.

#heart of ether transcripts

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guigz1-coldwar · 3 years ago

Text

'Only a dream...': New chapter for "Always for the greater cause..." is out!

Chapter Summary: After what happened while she was alone, Bell is trying to forget everything that occurred during this moment before having talks...

To read it on AO3, click here!

Taglist: @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart

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

3rd March 1981, 10H04 PM PDT

Yirina 'Bell' Grigoriev, Ex-KGB, Perseus

Bell's bedroom in the Perseus safehouse "Hidden Angel", Los Angeles, USA

It has to be a dream...it has to be...why did that picture was showing me with that Park for real?...are those dreams I'm making...real? If yes, what...how...why? Was it real...or just my head trying to tell me that? I know that I'm not myself since I got up from that one-month coma and that there are side effects but...they're feeling very weird for me and frequent since...that West-Berlin mission we did days ago...I should maybe try to stop thinking about it...I should stop thinking about them but even I knows that I was lying, I could know that at the moment I woke up, opening my eyes to be greeted by the outside's light of the sun.

The sounds of some birds singing outside made me actually moves out of my bed, my head still confused about the last night moment with Freya near that lake & what happened after while no one was around in the main room. At the moment, I would have like to stay inside my room to get my thoughts away for the moment but that isn't helpful since there's always something that made me remind of them so I gave up on that idea, resigning to dress up in new clothes, putting the old ones away and be good to go out of my bedroom, wondering who will be the first one to speak to me once I got my feet inside the bedroom.

When I entered it, there was only Bellamy at his usual desk but he was having some headsets around his head, probably listening to his rock or metal music and trying to sing along with them and it was better for me to let him be in his thing for the moment as I decide to go get a coffee at the kitchen space of the warehouse and for the first time since I'm back on work, I could make a coffee for myself without actually having anyone doing it for me and according to me, it was very strange that I never had the chance to do my own coffee without having someone doing it for me before I could do it. It was strange but now, I was able to enjoy something that could maybe get my head a bit clear even if the coffee was tasting differently...maybe another brand.

I moved towards my desk to get to work but just by looking at it and seeing that there were nothing on it except my tools and a few files that I have already completed, getting sit on my chair wouldn't be something I want to do now and it caused me to try to find a distraction and none other than Bellamy could help me to...pass the time for the moment as there were no one else I could make a little talk or apologizing to Knight since what happened two days. So, I kept my cup of coffee in my hands before moving to reach Bellamy by behind, him still listening to his music with his headset.

"Bellamy?" I whispered with a low voice but with the sound of my voice, it was sure that he wasn't going to hear me so, I decided to move my left hand to tap him over his left shoulder."Bellamy," I said, this time with a better voice than before but the tapping over his shoulder caused him to almost jumping in a scare off the chair.

"What the..." He tried to say in a panic, going off his chair after removing in a fast move his headset off his head before his blue eyes came to see me. "Oh...it's...you," He took a breath after putting his head over his heart. "You could have done something else than tapping me hard on the shoulder," He remarked with a joking tone, going back on his chair.

"Like what?" I demanded, raising an eyebrow with a smirk on my face.

"I don't know, walk at my sight or..." He pointed out in front of him, only making me see...the wall, his desk was in fact put against a wall at a few meters from the dashboard, him stopping to talk when his eyes met the wall.

"You wanted me to...get up on your desk and see you from higher?" I scoffed, finding myself inside a bit better than before, to be honest as Bellamy rolls his eyes around, looking annoyed.

"Very funny, Bell," He mumbled, still joking in his voice before his eyes went back on me. "So..." He started before he looks at my cup of coffee in my right hand, narrowing his eyes at it. "You made yourself a coffee?" He demanded.

"Of course," I replied with a smile before I took a sip from the cup, looking away for a second from him. "Is there...a problem about it?" I asked him, sounding a bit curious to know why his face wasn't normal at this...action.

"Oh, not at all, it's just that..." He started, scratching the back of his head, his eyes trying to avoid me. "I thought that someone would have prepared to you but I should have known that before," He remarked.

"Really? How?" I questioned him.

"Well, at first, it's always us making your coffee since you're always having your nose in paperwork and because also that Wraith is out making a call and Knight is still in town, maybe with a friend...or maybe someone very...very close to him," He answered, giving me at the same time, the whereabouts of the others and also, the thing that everyone else except me was making my coffee.

"You don't know where he is in fact?" I suggested and he shook his head.

"Nope, he said that someone that helped Naga & Jackal back at the Yamantau came in town for him so he left to see that person," He replied, his hands going on his lap, looking in a thinking mood...something that I never saw since I saw him back. "And before you ask, no, he didn't say who it was," He added, having guessed that this question was going to come over.

"I just want to apologize to him for my behavior," I told Bellamy, leaning against his desk behind me.

"Don't worry, it will pass," Bellamy assured, sounding mostly normal for a piece of advice like that before a silence went between the two of us, nothing coming out of our mouth to say something to relaunch a conversation, making this moment very...uncomfortable for the moment. "So...what do you want to talk about?" He demanded, breaking the silence.

"I don't know," I said, shrugging my shoulders at him.

"Yeah, me neither," He told me in the same tone I used, making me try to think about a topic that we could talk about without having to create weird silences...

"Uhm..." I scratched the back of my head, keeping my cup in my left hand. "What about...the nicknames that you're struggling to have for you..." I proposed, remembering that confusing moment at that safe house in Colorado. "What it was?...Azrael? Cerberis? Ori? Something like that?" I tried to remind you of those.

"Cerberus and Oni, Bell," He corrected me, raising his left index finger slightly before putting it down. "No, I'm still struggling to find the better one, it's so hard to think about a good one that you will keep for a great part of your life...like you been 'Bell'" He explained, adding a comment about me.

"I still don't know how I got it, to be honest," I commented with a grin.

"Long story, Bell, long story," He admitted, making a little laugh about that, a little curious inside of me to wonder how I become Bell. "So, for you, what do you like? Azrael, Cerberus or Oni?" He asked me

"As if I know what you want," I scoffed, taking a sip from my coffee before finishing its remains from the cup. "You should find it by yourself, take the one that defines you the most, something that you'll like to keep," I suggested at my best on this subject as Bellamy was listening to me. "Don't be asking others about it, it should be something that you should try to find by yourself," I repeated before my eyes moved at the main door of the safe house opening and seeing Freya getting inside as her head was looking towards us before going to our direction.

"Bell, you're awake," She said with a smile as she was arriving at us, Bellamy turning his body around on his chair to look at her. "What you're talking about?" She demanded with a curious tone, her eyes drifting between me & Bellamy.

"You know, personal things," Bellamy responded before I could do. "Talking about some things we're been struggling about...as if staying in that shithole," He remarked as he starts to look around him at the safe house.

"Don't worry, you ain't going to stay here any longer," Freya told us in a sort of happy voice, making me & Bellamy's eyes going wide at her words. "Got a call from Stitch, we're moving away from here, the rogue cell case is going to our men in San Francisco, we got better things to do," She revealed.

"Oh fuck, yes!" Bellamy sighed in a happy mood.

"Where?" I asked, curious.

"Well...we're just going to the East Coast...at Langley!" She announced, my eyes staying wide at these words as Bellamy's mood changed...a bit.

"Oh, come on!" He argued, sounding rather changed to know that. "Why are we staying in the US?"

"The mission that Naga & Jackal did was a success but only for a part of it," Freya explained, crossing her arms as I could see with a little grin each time her eyes were on me. "They got the data on the Numbers Program secured but nothing on Greenlight, our experts said that we don't have any big leads...except one now,"

"Wait, you said...Langley, right?" Freya nodded at Bellamy's words before he rolls his eyes. "Are you telling us that...we're going to the very place that the whole CIA is?" Freya nodded again.

"We leave in the afternoon, a plane will take us at one of our runways not far from here, should be there for next day," She declared, putting her arms in a normal position before she went to look at me fully. "Bell, can we talk?" She demanded and Bellamy didn't say a word that he was already having his headset back on his head.

"Uhm...sure, we can," I answered, unsure to be honest about it. "I just need to go wash my cup," I told her, showing her the empty cup in my hand.

"Of course, it's just for a few minutes," She affirmed before I start to walk away from Bellamy's desk, leaving him alone to his music as I was going to the kitchen space of the main room, Freya following me a little before she stops at her desk.

I don't know why but I was felt watched when I arrived near the little sink of the kitchen space and my doubts were confirmed when I turn my head around and saw Freya's brown eyes overlooking me at her desk, leaned against it, and looking in a waiting position for the talk. This made me blush a bit to that as I was looking away to wash the cup I used for the coffee while some stress was a bit going up inside of me...just to think about what happened between me & her last night.

Once that the cup was cleaned up and put on the right side of the sink, I was having a feeling that...I was just scared to talk to her for what she did, fearing that she did take badly my remarks about her advances with me but her kiss was very nice to feel, it's just that she was going too fast at the moment but a few reflections of myself made me change my mind about it and to go talk to her, removing my hands from the counter to see her and talk about this...if it was going to be the topic of what she wanted to talk about...

As I arrived near her desk, she was turned around away from me...holding in her hands...the very same file that I saw during the night...the one with a MI6 emblem on it and only by seeing it in her hands, I sort of panicked inside of me that it wasn't a dream after all to check it but also that I don't remember to have put it back right on the desk before going back inside my room. That caused me to stop at least 1 meter from the desk, my hands were a bit trembling to this.

"Bell, here you are," Freya spoke up, turning around as she closes the file in her hand to look at me, a smile on her face.

"Freya," I whispered as she was putting down the file on the desk. "Listen...I'm sorry about last night," I directly goes inside the subject with her, knowing instantly that it was going to be talked about. "I didn't want to hurt you about this but I don't want to go...too fast," I added as she slowly look back at me...with a smile.

"I know...I'm sorry, Bell," She said in a low voice before she moves in front of me, taking in her hands my left one. "I understand, I was stupid to be...like this," She admitted, holding gently my hand in hers, her eyes looking at them in a lovely way. "It's...you know, it's been a long time that I'm alone, having no one to be with me to think about, to love,"

"Really?" I muttered, slowly approaching her to face her.

"Yeah, just want to find someone that I can say 'I love you...and I think you're that 'someone," She remarked, her face going up to look at me with her eyes looking moved, making me get my right hand on her left cheek. "Would you want to be...that someone?" She asked me in a low voice.

"Yes..yes.." I replied with a smile, her reciprocating it on her face and that was making me warm my heart to see her in a positive mood after last night. "But...Uhm...can we keep it secret? I'm not into...PDA..." I told her, seeming anxious to go public with that sort of thing.

"As you wish," Freya understood my thinking before she decides nonetheless to move in to kiss me on the right cheek, letting a warm kiss on it. "You should get ready to prepare some of your stuff ready for transport, Bell," She advised me with a good voice, gesturing with her head towards the desk and the door of the bedrooms.

"Of course," I complied, nodding with my head at her as I got off her.

"Love you," She said in a low voice, winking at me with a smile.

"Me too," I confirmed before I turn my back around to walk towards my desk, finally getting better for a while after what happened with Freya and just to think about been with someone in a personal way, it was recomforting me, to be honest. It was something that I never thought to have in me but it showed up to be true...

I should think of that new relationship now...not of those dreams...if I can...

#call of duty cold war #cod #black ops cold war #cod black ops cold war #cod cold war #cod cw #fem!bell #cod bocw #call of duty #freya wraith helvig

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wayward-mikaelson · 4 years ago

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Heavenly Crush

Word Count: 1599

Pairing: Cas x Reader

Characters: Cas, Dean, Sam, and Reader

About: When Dean buts into the Readers sex life she cant stop thinking about Cas. When she sees Cas, they both share a small intimate moment.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Fluff, Dirty Thoughts, Fantasizing, Blood and Gore

A/N: If you know a Cas/Misha lover tag them below!

A/N 2: Request close in under 12 hours. 11.59 USA Central time! Send me those pictures or gifs or songs and what you want in it.

Forever Tag List: @donnaintx @myinconnelly1 @magssteenkamp @elansaidaris @hobby27 @squirrelnotsam @440mxs-wife

*18+ CONTENT. YOUNGER THAN 18 MUST MOVE ON

**DO NOT COPY AND PASTE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND WITHOUT GIVING ME THE PROPER CREDIT. I WORK TOO HARD ON THESE STORIES FOR THEM TO BE STOLEN.

***ALL WORKS ARE POSTS ON IG, AO3, WATTPAD. GO SHOW THEM SOME LOVE THERE TOO.

"We need to get you laid?" Dean says walking into the bunker and tossing his bag onto the table. I choke on whatever saliva I have in my mouth. "See right there! That would have been perfect if it were around some poor guys dick."

"Shut up," Both Sam and I say. "I do not need to be picturing myself giving some awful head right now." I continue. Sam flops into the chair closest to him. "Especially looking like I do. I'm sure I have Vamp guts on me." Our vampire hunt almost went south until Dean realized he had packed the freaking grenade launcher. When he shot it, vampire guts and body parts flew everywhere. "And stay out of my sex life unless you want me all up in yours Mister Right Now."

"Fuck you," Dean says making a face. He hates when I call him that when he buts into my non existent sex life.

"Oh, honey, I already do," I blew a kiss towards him. Sam is passed out and has missed the whole thing.

I make my way towards the bathroom. I've been with the boys for maybe six months. Both have tried making moves on me but they both failed. I didn't see them like that. They were more like brothers to me. Really, really annoying brothers who bickered almost all the damn time. I really have eyes for one person and that Castiel, our angel friend.

Once in the bathroom. I turn shower all the way on hot. Why? Well after this hunt, I feel the need to burn my skin to get all the vampire guts off me. I turn to the mirror and see that the damage is far, far worse than I imagined. Small chunks of vampire are stuck in my hair. Pieces of skin are stuck of my face. Dried blood is just about everywhere. "I guess that's what happened when I'm in the the splash zone," I begin to slip out of my clothes.

I carefully get into the shower and start to scrub my body, hair, and hard to get places. I want the smell and sign of it all off me. Once I am satisfied with my wash, I sit on the shower floor and just let the water run all over me.

I lean back and close my eyes and think of all the things I like about Cas. His eyes for one. The shade of blue always makes you want to drown in them. Then his smile when he was genuinely happy. That smile was always so rare to see and it always makes my knees weak. Then there was the way he talked and was always confused about certain things. The way he says hello to me and looks at me as if he's trying to read my mind. Well, maybe he can since he's an angel and all, I think to myself.

Then I start to think about the dirty stuff. I think of how those hands would feel on my skin. His voice in my ear. His body wrapped around mine. I bite my lip just thinking where it all could go. But I doubt it. Cas is an angel. I just want him so bad, I don't sleep or flirt with anyone at a bar of a town we roll through.

I sigh and turn the water off and get out of the shower. I look in the mirror to find I was squeaky clean minus the few cuts and scraps I got from being thrown around. I even start to see a few bruises starting to form. Oh well, I think, I've seen hotter days. I wrap the towel around me and waltz out of the bathroom without a care in the world. I run into something or someone and that someone balanced me on my feet and held me back. I feel my face start to burn when I feel the familiar gentle hands and see the beige trench coat.

"I was just coming to check in on you."

Cas's voice threw me for a spin and put me in a trance. I begin to envision me dropping my towel and jumping him. I picture slamming my lips to his and him backing me up onto a wall ripping the towel away.

"YN," Cas's voice also snaps me out my trance. "

"What?" I ask shaking my head.

"I asked if you were okay." Cas says. "You have some scrapes and bruises. Will you like it if I healed them?"

I smile. "Yeah," Damn my stupid day dream. I watch as Cas presses two fingers to my head and I close my eyes and sigh. I feel all the aching in my body fade out and disappear for good. Well, until the next time I need to be healed.

Cas pulls back his hand and I see a confused look on his face. "What?" I ask. "Do I still have blood or something in my hair?" I use my free hand to ruffle my hair around.

"No," Cas grabs my hand and I instantly feel my face turn red. I look away. "I never realized I had such an effect on you. I mean, I cannot hear your thoughts but, I can pick up on emotions. Yours are screaming whenever I am around you. I never knew until now."

I feel my face get hotter. I gently pull my hand away and turn away. "I gotta get dressed."

I hurry to my room and throw clothes on and sit on my bed. What the hell just happened? I toss over and bury my face in my pillow. Cas can't read my mind? But can read my flipping emotions? And they're screaming? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I scream into the pillow until I need to lift my head up to breath. I feel like a teenage school girl whose crush finally found out I like them.

I sit up and stare at the ground until I hear a knock on my door. I take a deep breath and compose myself. I get up and answer the door to see Cas standing there. Hes looking to the side and I follow his gaze and see Dean poking his head around the corner. He's giving okay and thumbs up hand signals. Dean sees me and stops and disappears. I sigh and let Cas in and close the door.

"I'm assuming Dean has something to do with this?" I ask watching Cas look around my room. It's the cleanest but, it also doesn't look like Deans.

Cas nods and looks back at me. "Yes, I inquired about your emotions I feel each time I am around you. He says that you might have what you humans call a crush on me. But I do not understand why you would want to crush me?" I cover my mouth and laugh. "What is so funny?"

I walk up to the confused angel with a smile on my face. "Cas," I say taking hold of his trench coat and I fiddle with the button closest to my fingers. "I don't want to crush you." I giggle again. "What Dean means is, I like you more than as a friend." I contemplate kicking Deans ass for telling Cas I have a crush on him.

"What is more than a friend?" Cas ask looking deep in your eyes.

I take a deep breath because I know he will still be confused. I let go of his coat and take hold of his face. I reach my face up to his and gently kiss his lips. His lips are chapped but I didn't care. I feel Cas's hand on my face and he pulls back slowly. I'm confused by the look he gives me. Shock? Weird? Surprised?

"I see now," He says keeping his hands on my face. His thumbs brush my cheeks and I'm not sure if he knew he was doing that. "I think I, too, have a crush on you and like you more than as a friend." I smile and Cas pulls my face back to his and this time, this kiss is deeper and full of longing.

Cas's hands slide down to my hips and walks me back towards the dresser. He effortlessly picks me up and sits me on top of it. I hear him shrug off his coat and toss it to the side without breaking the kiss. I begin to reach for the button of his pants. Then out of know where there is a soft sliding sound.

"I'm slipping some condoms under the door for you guys," Deans voice is heard from the other side. "I mean, I don't know how strong they have to be for an angel but these are the thick kind that don't bust."

"Oh for fucks sake," Sams voice is also heard. "Leave the two of them alone."

By now, Cas has pulled apart and has gotten his coat back on. I still sit on the dresser contemplating on kicking Deans ass still. Cas walks up to me and helps me off the dresser. "I still feel your emotions are screaming maybe this can settle them until we get the proper alone time. You know, so that I can get my hard angelic dick deep inside you." Cas softly presses his lips to mine for a few seconds before leaving the room.

Such talk coming from an angel had me turned on in ways I couldn't describe. Until next time.

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sunriserose1023 · 5 years ago

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Merry & Married {5}

SUMMARY: It’s been almost a year since the most humiliating moment of your life. You’ve done your best to move on—by literally moving across the country, starting a new job, and you’re finally starting to feel settled. That, of course, is when your bubblehead cousin sends you the invitation to her wedding—which is exactly one year to the day that you were left at the altar. You have to go, but you don’t have to go alone. Enter Bucky Barnes, the best friend you’ve ever had. You fill him in, and of course he agrees to go home with you. What are friends for? Never mind the fact that he’s desperately in love with you. And if you hadn’t sworn off men forever, you might just find him … attractive. So there you are, surrounded by love, bridesmaid dresses, champagne, and no less than one hundred sprigs of mistletoe. What could possibly go wrong? WORD COUNT: 4265 WARNINGS FOR THE SERIES: Emotional angst, presumably unrequited love, friends to lovers, fluff, happily ever after, written for the @heamarvel Holiday Movie Challenge

Masterlist

You glanced over your shoulder when the overhead light came on in the kitchen. Bucky had one eye closed, the other narrowed as he stared at you.

“What are you doing?” “Why aren’t you asleep?”

He shrugged, yawning as he stepped into the kitchen, the white t-shirt he was wearing riding up as he raised his arms above his head. You quickly looked away when you saw the strip of skin, feeling your cheeks warm as you went back to kneading. Bucky shook his head, rubbing a hand on the back of his head as he shuffled towards you.

“You okay?”

You shook your head.

“I couldn’t sleep.” “So you decide to take your aggressions out on this poor dough?”

You gave a laugh.

“I felt like being productive.” “What are you making?”

You looked down at the dough, the ingredients you had set out on the counter. Bucky followed your gaze, giving a quiet laugh when he picked up the “Everything But the Bagel” seasoning. He blinked, then turned his head to look at you.

“Are you making bagels?”

You nodded, looking down as you kneaded the dough some more. You felt your cheeks flush again and Bucky stepped closer to you.

“Y/N.” “Hmm?” “Why are you making bagels?” “Well, we’ve got to have something for breakfast.” “Yeah, but why bagels?”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, feeling like a fish. You lifted your head and met his eyes and his lips curved into a soft smile. His voice was pitched low, and the sound sent shivers up and down your spine.

“Are you making bagels for me?”

You automatically shook your head, looking away from his cool sapphire eyes.

“No, I … I usually make something for everybody while I’m here, and I just thought bagels would be something different this year.” “And it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m a born-and-bred New Yorker, the bagel capital of the USA?”

You swallowed, letting go of the dough and turning to look at him.

“Maybe it had something to do with it.”

You’d barely even whispered the words, but Bucky smiled, stepping closer to you.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

You nodded and Bucky stepped closer, smiling when you closed your eyes and moved to rest your forehead against his chest. Your dough-covered hands hung by your sides, and Bucky lifted his hands to gently rub your shoulders.

“I’m tired, but I can’t sleep.” “What’s got you so anxious?” “The dinner tonight.”

Bucky nodded, still kneading your shoulders.

“The dinner that’s not the rehearsal dinner?”

You nodded, lifting your head.

“Nana throws this huge … gala every year. Only the elite get an invite. We did the same thing last year. The big dinner tonight, rehearsal tomorrow, wedding to finish out the week.”

Bucky nodded.

“And the elite who do get an invite?” “I haven’t seen any of them since my wedding. And some of those women are real bitches.”

Bucky stifled a laugh and you turned back to the bagel dough, punching it as you spoke.

“‘Oh, Y/N, how lovely to see you. Where have you been?’ ‘The decorations are so lovely this year. Where did you find all these things?’ Knowing damn good and well the decorations are leftovers from my farce of a wedding.”

You shook your head and Bucky smiled, stepping up behind you and rubbing a hand along your back. Some of the tension left your shoulders at the touch of his hand, and you moved the dough from the flour-covered counter into a bowl. Bucky stood in the same spot as you went to wash your hands, and you held onto the edge of the sink.

“Peter’s parents will be there.” “Seriously?”

You lifted your head, looking out the small window at the moonlight on the lake.

“They’ve been friends of the family for years. Nana can’t just not invite them.” “Even though their son is king of the douches?”

You smiled, then sighed.

“I guess I’m just dreading seeing them.” “What would you say to them, if you could say anything you could?”

You glanced over your shoulder and smiled.

“That their son is king of the douches.”

Bucky grinned and you sighed, turning to face him, wiping your hands on a dish towel.

“I’d love to say that wedding and not marrying their son was the best thing that ever happened to me, but I’m just not there yet.” “I get it.”

You met his eyes, smiling as you tossed the towel onto the counter behind you.

“Of course … if it wasn’t for that disaster of a wedding, I might never have met you.”

Bucky smiled as he stepped closer to you.

“And my life would be dreadfully boring.” “Oh, please.” “No, it’s true. Who would come over for movie night? Who would cook me soup when I’m sick?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, that ‘man cold’ just about took you out this year.” “Hey.”

You snorted, and Bucky took your hand.

“I, for one, will forever be grateful for your disaster of a wedding. My life wouldn’t be the same without you in it.”

You smiled, gently shoving his shoulder.

“Don’t go getting all mushy on me, Barnes.” “It’s the truth, whether it’s mushy or not.”

You glanced up, going still when you saw the mistletoe hanging above Bucky’s head. He followed your gaze, blinking a few times before meeting your eyes again. You smiled, shaking your head.

“You only have to do it when someone’s around to see. The kids keep score.”

Bucky nodded, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. He let go of you, and you felt a weird emptiness in your chest when you glanced up at the mistletoe again. You started to turn away, but Bucky took hold of your arms. You lifted your head, eyes widening when you saw the look on his face.

“Buck?” “Just … don’t say anything.”

You swallowed, feeling your heart start to pound in your chest when he lifted one hand from your arm to cup your cheek. He slowly inched closer to you, and your eyes slid closed, feeling his breath against your lips.

A loud crash made the two of you jump apart, and Bucky stepped in front of you, both of you leaning out the kitchen door see a man stand up and hurry towards the back door.

“Clint?”

He glanced over his shoulder as he pulled his shirt into place, hair sticking up and pants unzipped. He smiled and waved at you, shrugging his shoulders before turning and running out the door. You bit back a laugh and looked up at a confused Bucky. You motioned with your head.

“Clint is Natasha’s high school sweetheart. Anytime she comes back to town, he comes over so they can … catch up.” “You don’t say.”

Bucky glanced back down the hall and you took a step back from him covering your mouth with a hand. He cleared his throat and you shook your head, turning away from him, going to the bowl you’d set the bagel dough in.

“Y/N—“ “I’ve got to get these bagels going. Shaped out and stuff. You should go back to bed.” “Y/N.” “We’ve got a big day tomorrow, Buck. Well, today. You need your rest.”

Bucky nodded, slipping his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants.

“And what about you?” “I’ll be fine.”

Bucky nodded, and you went still when he moved directly behind you, close enough for you to feel his body heat. You closed your eyes, somehow suppressing a shiver down your spine when he whispered in your ear.

“If you want to pretend that almost didn’t happen, fine. But know that it wasn’t an accident and I’m as messed up about it as you are.” “Buck—“

He leaned in to kiss your cheek, then turned and walked away. After a few long moments, you lifted your head, staring in the direction he’d gone.

“Earth to Y/N. You in there?”

You nodded in response to Hope’s question, lifting a hand to your mouth as you yawned again. Carol shook her head, pointing at you.

“That’s like the fourth time you’ve yawned. What gives? How late were you up last night?”

You gave a quiet groan, shifting in your spot on the white couch. Natasha was beside you, and Carol and Hope were in chairs across from the couch, on the other side of the pedestal. You shook your head.

“I couldn’t sleep.” “Oh, was that the creaking Cassie heard and then came and asked Scott and me about?”

You grinned.

“Nope, that was Natty.”

Hope’s eyes widened as Carol made a slow gasp.

“I knew I heard the back door open after everyone had gone to bed! Clint came over, didn’t he?” “Fuck you very much, Y/N.”

You laughed and Natasha shifted, straightening out her legs and brushing a hand down her slacks.

“Yes, he did. No, we’re not talking about it.”

Hope shrugged, resting her arms on her belly.

“What’s there to talk about? You come to town, Clint comes over, you do the do, and that’s all until the next time you come to town.”

Carol snorted.

“‘Do the do.’ Does the baby have ears, Hopie? Don’t want him or her to hear you say ‘fuck?’” “I’m trying not to be crude, Carol Anne.” “Don’t even start with the middle names.” “Ladies, ladies.”

You shook your head, yawning again. Natasha tapped her foot against the floor as she side-eyed you.

“Are you this exhausted because of the bagels we had this morning—“ “Which were delicious, by the way.”

You smiled at Hope and Natasha tapped her foot again. You looked to her and she raised an eyebrow, a sultry smile coming to her face.

“Spill.” “Darcy should be walking out any minute now.” “But she ain’t here yet, so spill.”

Carol and Hope moved to the edges of their seats and you groaned.

“There’s nothing to—“ “Don’t lie. You’ve always been shitty at it.”

You glared at Hope, even as your cheeks warmed, and she waved a hand at you. You sighed, looking down at your hands.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to make bagels. Bucky came down and we talked for a while and ended up under the mistletoe.”

Carol gave a quiet squeal in her throat and you shook your head.

“Clint tripped over his own feet and interrupted us.” “Damn it, Barton.”

You smiled at Carol’s eye roll, then sighed.

“I just … he’s my friend. My best friend. He is the best friend I’ve ever had and I don’t want to mess that up. I can’t mess it up.” “And kissing him would mess it up?”

You looked to Hope, pointedly flicking your eyes to her belly, then back to her face. She rolled her eyes, patting her belly with a hand.

“This did not happen because Scott and I kissed under the mistletoe. There was a lot—and I mean a lot—that happened before this.”

You looked to Natasha.

“What about you and Barton?”

She raised one eyebrow.

“What about me and Barton?” “Why haven’t you ever dated him?” “We dated.” “Holding hands in junior high doesn’t count.”

Natasha flipped Carol off without looking at her, making her laugh. Natasha shrugged.

“We decided a long time ago that we’d just have fun with each other. Over the years, our definition of ‘fun’ happened to change to sex. We like where we are in our lives, but we like each other, too.”

You shook your head.

“I don’t think I could do that.” “No, you’re way too monogamous for that.”

You looked to Hope, and she lifted her shoulders, shaking her head.

“You wouldn’t be able to do a friends with benefits thing. You’d catch feelings at penetration.”

Carol made a gagging noise, holding a hand up to her sister.

“Do not talk about penetration at the table.” “We’re not at the table. We’re at the wedding dress shop.” “Ever. Do not talk about penetration ever.”

You giggled as Carol shuddered. Natasha tapped your knee with a fingernail and you looked over to her.

“Let’s say, just for shits and giggles, that Bucky likes you as much as you clearly like him.” “I don’t—“ “Oh honey, don’t even.”

Carol and Hope’s voices overlapped Natasha’s, all three of them shaking their heads and denying your claim. You looked from Natasha’s green eyes to Carol’s brown, landing on Hope’s hazel. She smiled at you, one hand gently rubbing her belly.

“Everyone can see it, sweetie. You look at him like he hung the moon. And he’s all starry-eyed when he looks at you.”

Carol shook her head.

“I don’t see what the problem is. You like him, he likes you—“ “And what happens when it ends?”

Carol, Hope and Natasha look over to you, and you shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes.

“What happens when we get tired of each other? Or when he meets the one he’s supposed to be with? What happens when he asks me to marry him and then decides I’m not what he wants?”

You jerk your head to look at Natasha, who had hold of your hand, her nails digging into your wrist.

“He’s not Peter. I’m personally offended that you would ever lump Bucky in a category with that human shitstain, because I know for a goddamn fact that Barnes would die before he hurt you.”

She dropped your wrist with a push, making it land in your lap. You stared down at your hands, a tear slipping down your cheek. Carol stood up and walked to the couch, and Natasha left the couch to take Carol’s chair. Carol scooped you into her arms and you shook your head as you moved it to Carol’s shoulder. She gently carded her fingers through your hair, speaking softly.

“I know you’ve been hurt. I know it was horrible, and I know it’s hard to try to move on. But Y/N … you can't keep living like this. Trust me when I say you don’t have forever. Don’t wait.”

You closed your eyes, missing the way Hope watched Natasha, the way she stared down at her hands, lost in her own thoughts. You sat up and sniffled, wiping your eyes when you heard May’s voice announce that Darcy was coming out. You shook your head, meeting Carol’s eyes.

“Tell me her dress isn’t a carbon copy of mine.” “Oh, no. This dress is much worse.” “She looks like a cross between a Southern Belle and a cupcake. It’s hideous.”

You laughed at Hope, the four of you standing up and waiting for Darcy to appear.

Bucky held the Scotch in his hand as he looked around the room. You’d been right. Anybody who was anybody in the state of Louisiana was at your family home tonight. You’d introduced Bucky to everyone from the governor and his wife to the local sheriff. You’d stayed by him through most of the beginning of the evening, and Hope had come by to warn him not to let you hide in the kitchen or the bathroom, which you’d been known to do.

Natasha was working the room the way she worked deals, her sultry laugh filling the air while her throat sparkled with diamonds and the emerald gown she wore seemed to highlight the fire of her hair. Bucky noticed a man always near Natasha, watching her, tugging at his tie or his sleeves like he wasn’t used to his suit. You hung to the edges, never getting too deep in the crowd, breathing a sigh of relief whenever Bucky came near. You were gorgeous in your deep purple gown, hair pulled up, your mother’s jewels in your ears. Hope wore a navy blue dress that hugged her belly, Darcy was a vision in red, and Carol wore black slacks and a white puffy shirt, her hair in cascading curls with sparkling starburst pins near her crown.

The dinner was exquisite, the drinks flowed like a river, the laughter echoing through the rooms. You were sitting close to Bucky as a band played outside, a few couples creating a makeshift dance floor. The doors were open, so the music drifted in at the perfect volume, and the night was not cold, but not hot, lingering in that comfortable temperature.

“Want to dance?”

You smiled as you met Bucky’s eyes. You nodded and he offered you a hand. You took it, letting him lead you to the dance floor, laying both your hand and your chin on his shoulder.

“Is it always like this?”

You smiled and nodded.

“At least once a year. More, if there’s an election of some kind. Parties have been thrown in this house since before the Civil War.” “Really?”

You nodded.

“There was talk that it was a whorehouse in the Depression, but Nana will vehemently deny that if asked.”

Bucky laughed, pulling you closer, his hand burning on the small of your back. The two of you moved along the floor in a comfortable silence, until his voice tumbled between you.

“Hope told me not to let you hide in the kitchen.”

You sighed, nodding your head.

“When I was younger, I had terrible anxiety whenever it came to talking to people I didn’t know. I’d go in the kitchen and hide, because they were so busy in there they never noticed me. Or I’d lock myself in one of the upstairs bathrooms. Only �� one time I didn’t lock the door and Natasha and Clint came into the bathroom and I had to hide in the tub and wish I was dead while they … you know.”

Bucky leaned back to look into your eyes, his own wide and his mouth open. You laughed and nodded.

“She doesn’t know about that, so keep it between us.” “Your secret’s safe with me, sweetheart.”

You smiled, letting it slide from your face as you moved closer to him, your face hidden from his. You and Bucky danced and talked for the better part of an hour, amid which your uncle Phil and uncle Hank cut in for a dance of their own with you. Bucky danced with your mom and then Nana, and you almost had to fight her to get him back.

Bucky led you back to a table and you let out an appreciative groan when you sat in a chair.

“These shoes are so pretty but my feet are killing me. Or, as we say here in the South, my dogs are barking.”

Bucky laughed, patting a hand on his thigh.

“Want me to rub your feet?” “As tempting as that is, Nana would kill us. We have to look like ladies and gentlemen, even if we aren’t.”

Bucky grinned at you, the two of you turning when you heard your name mispronounced in the sweetest way. A smile spread over your face when a dark haired blur ran your way, and you stood up, bending down and catching the blur in your arms.

“Hello, sweet girl! Oh, I’ve missed you!”

Bucky stood, noticing that all eyes in the room were on you. A tall, blonde woman appeared in the doorway, sighing when she saw you. She smiled and waved to people in the crowd, laying a hand on your back when she reached you.

“As soon as Mom mentioned your name, she took off.”

You smiled at the woman, leaning to kiss her cheek. You pointed up and she groaned when she saw the mistletoe.

“Not again.” “It’s a tradition:”

She shook her head, widening her eyes and rolling them towards her right. You smiled.

“Pepper, this is Bucky Barnes. Buck, this is my aunt Pepper and this is … psst. Tell him your name.”

The little girl in your arms lifted her head off your shoulder, giving Bucky a once-over before speaking.

“Morgan Maria Stark.” “Nice to meet you, Morgan.”

Pepper shook Bucky’s hand, then turned to you.

“Sorry we’re late. The plane was grounded because of snow, and then you know how Tony is, always has to make an entrance.” “Well, when you’re worth a billion or so, you can do that.”

Bucky nodded, and you moved back to the table, sitting down with Morgan in your lap. Pepper patted your shoulder and then started making the rounds. The band started back up and Morgan looked up at you.

“I missed you.” “I know, pumpkin. I’ve missed you, too.” “Daddy said we can move to New York if we wanted.”

You nodded, tucking her dark hair behind her ear.

“You could, but who would watch out for Goose?”

Morgan shook her head.

“Goose stays wif Carol.” “Well, what about Charlie?” “Daddy says Charlie is not our problem. But I love him.”

You smiled, looking over to Bucky.

“Charlie is Nana’s basset hound. He loves Morgan.”

Bucky smiled and Morgan lifted her hands to your cheeks, making you look at her.

“Is Bucky your boyfriend?”

Your eyes widened as he laughed, and Bucky shook his head.

“And I think that’s my cue to go to the bar. Can I get you anything?” “Chardonnay, please.”

Morgan nodded.

“Apple juice, please.”

Bucky grinned.

“Coming right up.”

You watched him walk away and you shook your head, leaning in to touch your nose to Morgan’s.

“You can’t say things like that, Morguna. Not until he’s not around.” “Is he though?”

You sighed.

“No, he’s not. He’s just my friend.”

Morgan nodded.

“Daddy says it’s okay for boys to be your friends. But that’s all.”

You shook your head, a smile on your face.

“Your daddy thinks he knows everything, doesn’t he?”

Morgan nodded.

“He does his best thinking with juice pops and me.” “Oh, he does?”

She nodded again.

“We make a great team.”

You smiled, resting your head atop hers, hugging her gently.

“You’re one lucky little girl, Morguna Stark.”

You smiled at Morgan asleep on Tony’s shoulder, his other arm holding Pepper close. Hope and Scott were barely moving, one of his hands on her belly. Darcy and Ian were wrapped up in each other’s arms, cheeks pressed together. Natasha … well, you didn’t know exactly where Natasha was, but you had a hunch. You were sitting at the table again, Cassie asleep in the chair beside you, Bucky leaving Carol on the dance floor as she laughed and he shook his head. He smiled as he arrived at your table, sitting on your other side once he’d seen Cassie.

“You okay?”

You nodded.

“The party should be winding down soon. Once the little ones fall asleep, the big ones aren’t too far behind.”

Bucky smiled, turning as chants began rolling up from the dance floor. Cassie sat up, a frown on her face, and you laid a hand on her dark hair. She moved to rest her head in your lap, closing her eyes again.

“Alright, alright! Fine.”

Cheers rose from the floor as Carol stepped up to the doorway, which was a few steps above the rest of the floor. You took in a breath, a smile on your face. Bucky turned to you, shaking his head.

“What’s going on?” “Carol’s going to sing.”

Bucky’s eyebrows raised and you smiled.

“She’s really good.”

She started to sing acapella, and just as you’d known would happen, the room became entranced. Carol’s voice brought everyone to a standstill, and you could only smile in pride as you listened to her. She sang two songs, and as the band began to play, she sang one last one.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas. Let your heart be light. From now on, our troubles Will be out of sight.”

You took in a breath, eyes on Carol who was resolutely not looking at you. Natasha, Hope, and Darcy, however, had all glanced back to find you. Bucky saw them looking towards you and you swallowed.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas, Make the Yuletide gay. From now on, our troubles Will be miles away.”

You closed your eyes, lowering your head. You blinked your eyes open and stared at the table, and Bucky reached over to take your hand. You grabbed onto his hand and held it tightly, staring at the table as Carol continued to sing.

“Through the years, We all will be together, If the fates allow. Hang a shining star Upon the highest bough. And have yourself A merry little Christmas now.”

You swallowed, lifting a shaky hand to rest it on Cassie’s head.

“Y/N? Are you—“

You shook your head, lifting tear-filled eyes to Bucky’s.

“Take her.”

He moved to gently lift Cassie from the chair, holding her as she wrapped her arms and legs around him. He turned and watched as you rushed from the room, not stopping until you were outside.

You took great, heaving breaths in and out, trying your hardest to stop the tears. There was no explanation for it. You couldn’t hear that song without crying. You hadn’t been that way until your father had died, and for some reason, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” always made you cry.

You felt somewhat in control of yourself and let out a shaky breath. You ran your hands down the front of your gown and nodded, turning to go back into the house. You stopped when you realized you weren’t alone, all the blood rushing from your limbs and going ice-cold when you saw the man before you.

“Peter.”

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