#waiting for new earbuds to come in so. probably thursday :( | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bcbdrums · 3 years ago

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A Day in the Life of Bonnie Rockwaller

What, not a Drakgo fic!? No...no it is not. This one is all about Bonnie.

A girl only really seen through one lens on the show, perhaps misunderstood... A cheerleader, twelve-years a ballerina, a good student, the youngest in her family, and dating a football star. The "mean girl."

What is her life really like?

Happy (belated) birthday to the amazing @sharperthewriter!

FFn AO3

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A Day in the Life of Bonnie Rockwaller

The alarm clock went off too soon for Bonnie Rockwaller on that Thursday morning. With a groan she reached over and slapped the device until the beeping stopped, and then blinked at the bright sunlight creating a glow at the edge of her teal curtains.

She didn't want to get up. But winners didn't sleep in.

She rolled out of bed, untwisting her dark red leopard print pajama bottoms and spaghetti strap top from where they had shifted in her restless sleep. She hadn't slept well, again.

She slipped her feet into her fuzzy slippers that matched the pajama set and grabbed her phone off her nightstand, unplugging it as she hastily flipped it open to check her messages.

There weren't any.

She pushed down the pang that tried to creep into her chest, and instead turned to her wall calendar next to her desk. She paused for a moment to look in the bright mirror above the desk, tousling her hair with one hand and giving a half-grin at the way it fell over her shoulders. She looked incredible even straight out of bed.

The pang tried to enter her heart again, and she frowned and turned to the calendar, confirming the day's events with what she already had in her phone planner. After cheer practice she planned to go to the boutique for the final fitting of her homecoming dress, and that night she had ballet.

After nodding to herself that all was correct, she flipped over to her text messages out of habit. Her thumb hovered over the message at the top that hadn't been replied to from the night before as she considered sending another. But then with a scowl and another pang she closed the phone and tossed it onto her unmade bed.

She stepped over to the barre that her parents had had installed in her room and began her routine of ballet stretches. She forced the distracting thoughts about the lack of message reply away and started going over the new Mad Dogs cheer routine in her head. Ever since she and Kim had become co-captains of the squad, she couldn't help but admit...the routines had gotten better. And harder.

Bonnie sighed.

After finishing the stretches she changed into her black leggings, blue sports bra, socks, and running shoes. With the workout she knew she was going to get after school, she needed to get plenty warmed up ahead of time. Plus, she was worried she might have gained a few pounds in the last month and might not fit into her gown.

After tying her shoes, she grabbed her mp3 player and set it on her workout playlist, which included her favorite upbeat songs by Britina, MC Honey, the Oh Boyz, SmashMouth, and more. She also had some strange rap song that she'd seen once on American Starmaker that had topped the charts, but she could never remember the name of the artist.

She popped her earbuds in and hurried past the bedrooms of her siblings, hurrying out the door of the split-level home into the crisp, cool morning air. She set her stopwatch for seven and a half minutes and began jogging down the sidewalk, the golden light of the sunrise beginning to warm her skin within minutes.

Against her will, her mind fell back to the unanswered text from the night before. It wasn't that Brick hadn't been slow to reply in the past... In fact, his replies were coming slower and slower lately.

Bonnie couldn't ignore the pang in her chest that time, and she took a deep breath and ran faster. There were plenty of logical reasons her boyfriend might not be answering her texts. He was in college, after all. He had homework...which...he had never really done much of in high school, but the fact that he'd made it through one semester of college so far meant he must be doing at least some now.

She told herself again she was worrying over nothing. He had always been confused about things that were important to her, and to girls in general. He would read her text that day and confirm about the dance, and then she would send him a picture of her gown so he could buy the matching corsages.

The alarm on her stopwatch went off, and she turned around and started jogging back in the direction of home at a faster pace than she'd begun. As she felt the adrenaline pump through her from the run, she got an idea. She didn't need to wait for Brick to reply... She could just send the picture of the dress after she tried it on. That would give him the hint. He had probably just forgotten to reply anyway...

Bonnie finished her run with confidence, and when she returned home she hurried past her siblings in the kitchen, grateful for the loud hip-hop music currently playing in her ears so she wouldn't have to hear anything they might say to her. Though it was unlikely they would.

Her older brother by one year, Jonny, was sitting on the kitchen counter with his dirty sock-clad feet on the refrigerator door, playing some hand-held video game. Her even older sisters, Connie and Lonnie, were seated at the kitchen table leaning over a fashion magazine and a laptop computer, shopping online she assumed. They would curb the behavior when their parents came out for the 'family breakfast' they insisted on each day, before each family member would vanish to their various obligations.

Bonnie wasn't upset about family breakfasts really; ever since her dad bought her a car, she barely saw her family, since each member in turn had previously driven her everywhere she needed to go—her siblings with complaints, of course. Now she was wholly independent, so the breakfasts held more meaning to her.

After returning to her room, she glanced at her phone still on the bed. She thought about her plan to text Brick later after she picked up her dress...which would be in about nine hours.

The pang of worry hit her chest again.

She grabbed the phone along with her bathrobe as she went back down the hall to take a shower. She opened the phone and looked at the text she had sent the prior evening before dinner that remained unanswered.

*You're still free next Saturday for the homecoming dance, right?*

Still breathless from the run and with sweat irritating the center of her back, she started the shower and then scrolled through the prior texts between she and Brick over the past couple of weeks, noting the slow times between his responses compared to her quick ones, and his lack of many words. After a moment of tense indecision, she fired off another quick text.

*I'll send you a photo of my gown after school!*

She set the phone down and grimaced as she started to undress. A lack of words wasn't anything new, and she was stunned as she realized she was telling herself not to worry. Why should she worry? She shouldn't even have let that thought in her head.

She frowned and leaned over the counter, staring at her face in the mirror as it started to become fogged with steam.

"I have nothing to worry about," she reassured herself out loud, and after giving herself a crisp nod, she adjusted the water temperature and made haste to shower.

She thought about Brick's class and football schedules, which...she'd had to badger him for back in the fall. They weren't consistent day to day, and he even had night classes a couple of days a week. These offered plenty of reasons why he might not have replied to her text messages. A college boy was busy.

After another swath of reassuring thoughts she felt her confidence returning. And then just as she switched the shower off, she heard the telltale beep of her phone indicating a message received.

She nearly slipped on the tile as she hurried to the phone, only half-drying her hands before flipping it open. The text was from Brick.

*Call me later.*

Bonnie read the words five times as her heart began to race, and then she mentally shook herself and quickly dried the phone off before drying off herself and putting on her bathrobe.

The text was a positive. He wanted to talk to her. Right...? Usually it was she who called him, and he only answered half of the time anyway... Come to think of it, he never said much over the phone. He just hummed responses to what she said to him.

Bonnie frowned into the fogged-up mirror as she began to blow-dry her hair. She didn't need to read any more into the text than was there. He probably wanted to talk about logistics for the dance.

She let the sound of the blow dryer drown out her thoughts, and as soon as her hair was no longer damp at the roots she unplugged the blow dryer and set the appliance on the counter before snatching up her phone again and storming down the hall back to her bedroom.

When she stepped through the door, she hit her ankle hard on something and tripped, plummeting forward with a gasp. Her phone flew out of her hand and was forgotten as she tucked into a somersault and came out of the fall safely and on her feet. She took hardly a second to catch her breath before whirling around and pushing her hair out of her eyes as she scowled. Her full laundry basket on the floor was the culprit, but her eyes narrowed as she realized it was the load she had put in the night before...and it wasn't clean nor dry.

"Lonnie!" she shouted before even leaving her room, turning the short distance down the hall to her older sister's room. "Why aren't my clothes clean? And why did you put dirty clothes back in my room!?"

She had just reached the door when it opened a sliver, and she could just see her sister's blonde hair and smirk.

"Oh sorry B, forgot to tell you I took your clothes out last night to do mine," Lonnie said, her tone rife with sarcasm. "Needed my intimates done before my date later."

"You could have waited your turn! Why didn't you tell me last night?" Bonnie said through gritted teeth, her hands in fists at her sides as she seethed.

"Mmh, guess it slipped my mind. Sorry, B..." she answered as she pushed the door closed, drawing out the 'sorry' in an all too familiar way.

"Rrrgh!" Bonnie snarled, hitting the closed door with a flat palm before turning on her heel to head back to her room.

"Sheesh, Bonnie, take a chill pill."

Bonnie blinked and saw Jonny leaning against the wall, not looking up from his video game.

"Quiet, nerdlinger!"

"Hmph," was Jonny's only reply, said through a smirk with a shrug.

"I have nothing to wear now!"

"Wow, nothing," he replied flatly, clearly disbelieving and disinterested.

Bonnie took a sharp breath in through her nose and was about to retort when Connie poked her head out of her own doorway.

"Nothing that'll help, anyway," she said with a slight giggle and smirk, giving Bonnie a once-over.

"Connie!"

Her eldest sister disappeared into her bedroom, and the sound of another door closing was her alert that her brother had departed too. Bonnie stood alone in the hallway for a moment, seething and feeling irrationally like she might cry before she shoved the emotion away and stalked back to her room.

Winners didn't cry.

She glanced into the laundry basket, noting all of her favorites wrinkled and wet from half a wash cycle, including her planned outfit for that day. She sighed and stepped to the closet, looking at the variety of things she didn't often choose because they were old, out of style, or weren't appropriate for school for one reason or another.

After several minutes pushing through every item and muttering about things being out of season, she grabbed an old favorite crop top she'd forgotten about and probably hadn't worn since freshman year. After scanning the array of bottoms in her closet and not finding a suitable match, she reached into the far corner and grabbed the old, baggy Club Banana overalls she'd used to wear with that top all the time.

When she got dressed she realized two things quickly: first, that sleeveless purple and teal tie dye racer-back crop top was quite snug, rode up higher than it used to, and showed her bra under her arms; second, that the overalls were also just a touch too small. They hugged her hips and her rear in a way she actually found attractive as she spun in front of the mirror, but the straps weren't fitting entirely over her shoulders and even hurt a little.

She frowned slightly as she unbuckled one strap and let it fall over her back, and the bib ever so slightly forward. It relieved enough pressure from the garment that she felt comfortable in the choice, and after looking at the very obvious sides of her bra showing under her arms, she unhooked the undergarment at the back, pulled off the straps, and then took the garment off through one of the arm holes in the style of Raquel Spring from "Pals." She dropped it in the laundry basket with a frown, determining then and there she would have to get back at Lonnie for potentially ruining her wardrobe.

After another quick spin in the mirror and deciding she looked good enough, Bonnie put on her socks and shoes and hurried back to the bathroom to quickly do her hair and makeup. Her parents would be upset, but she wasn't sure if she'd have time for breakfast anymore. The clothing problem had slowed her down, plus she suddenly remembered some math homework she'd left unfinished the night before in favor of working on memorizing the latest ballet routine.

Her focus fell to the unfinished math word problems—why were word problems so hard?—as she fixed her hair with the blow dryer and a round brush into its usual style, and then hurriedly put on her makeup.

After giving a satisfied nod to her appearance, she hurried back to her bedroom again. She closed her homework into her math book and shoved it in her backpack, knowing she'd have a better chance of getting it done and being on time if she did it after she arrived at school, maybe during her first class. It was with that somewhat shaky resolution that she threw her backpack over her shoulder and then grabbed up the laundry basket and headed down the hall.

She ignored the smirks of her siblings as she strode past them and quickly got the load of laundry started. Her mom didn't have to work for a couple of hours yet...

When she returned to the kitchen, she noted her three older siblings expressions had sobered as they sat dutifully around the table eating their usual breakfast meals, and her parents with them. Bonnie took a deep breath.

"Mom, when my laundry finishes can you put it in the dryer? And hang up the other things?"

Her mother looked up from her dish in confusion.

"I thought you did laundry last night?"

"I started to, but somebody decided theirs was more important," Bonnie said, hands on her hips as she glared at her older sister.

Veronica Rockwaller gave a disapproving frown toward the blonde-haired young woman, who merely shrugged.

"She didn't come back to dry it anyway," Lonnie said.

"I fell asleep doing homework!"

Bonnie's father, who until that point had been invisible behind his newspaper, cleared his throat.

"Bonnie..."

Bonnie groaned and rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know I'm supposed to sleep at least seven hours each night. I got them," she assured him. She didn't think it important to add they'd been spent tossing and turning, worrying about Brick. And that the same worry was what kept her from finishing the homework.

She turned to the cupboard and took out a protein bar before spinning around and heading for the front door.

"Bonnie!" her mother sang in a disappointed tone as she walked past. Her father looked up from his paper and coffee again with a raised brow.

"Sorry Mom, sorry Dad, I have just enough time to finish my homework if I leave now," she said by way of excuse.

"But Bon-Bon!"

Bonnie looked from her mother's disappointed face to her father's. Donald 'Donny' Rockwaller lifted his hand in a vague gesture that she could leave, and she grinned and flipped her hair with one hand as she turned to hide her relief.

"Now Ronnie, schoolwork comes first. At least she won't miss dinner," her father said pointedly. "Especially since it'll be the last family dinner before our trip this weekend."

Bonnie froze at the tone in her father's voice and glanced back over her shoulder. He was staring at her over his newspaper.

"Of course not!" she said with a broad, innocent smile. She thought a moment. "...But I do need to pick up my homecoming dress after cheer practice today."

"Oh, I can come with you!" her mother said brightly.

Bonnie's smile faded to a panicked frown and she started waving her hand in a stopping motion. But her attention shifted suddenly as her sisters spoke.

"You mean they found a dress to actually fit that shape?" Connie said.

"Clearly nothing else does," Lonnie said, giving a disgusted look at Bonnie's current attire.

"Ladies," their father admonished, and Bonnie turned to leave in a hurry amid her mother's scolding of her older sisters and her brother's snickering. She wasn't about to let her mother come along to the dress fitting, or anywhere else where they could be seen together by people she knew—not since the ski trip incident.

In the driveway, she dropped her backpack on the passenger seat of her white convertible and sighed as she sank into the tan leather driver's seat. After tuning the radio to her favorite hip-hop station and cranking the volume, she began the drive to school, letting the sound of the wind and the music carry her thoughts away.

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When Bonnie walked through the halls of the school and saw Kim Possible standing in front of her open locker, she actually perked up. She needed to talk to Kim about the complexity of the final sequence in the new cheer routine before practice. She began quickening her pace, but stopped short when Kim's locker was pushed closed by a confidently grinning Ron Stoppable, dressed uncharacteristically in his football jersey.

Bonnie stopped and took a step nearer the other wall of lockers as if it could hide her while the...the loser of a held-back senior Kim now called 'boyfriend' leaned over the red-head at her locker and set his hand on her waist, kissing her in a very suave move. Bonnie blinked at the scene in shock, feeling a sinking in her stomach and an actual camaraderie with Stoppable's hairless pet which was scrubbing at its eyes from the football star's pocket.

'Football star...'

"Whoa, put out the fire you two!" was the declaration of Kim's other best friend, Monique, who Bonnie could find no fault with except for choosing the other two as companions. The girl was confident, trendy, smart, and someone she could have called 'friend' herself. But apparently Kim had gotten to her first.

Bonnie passed the trio without a word as they began chatting and hurried to what was their joint homeroom. She needed to finish that math homework and would need a seat in the back if she was to avoid Mr. Barkin's watchful gaze. And the last thing she wanted right then was to hear about how great life was the world-famous world-saving cheerleader.

She remembered Brick's text and reached in her pocket for her phone, and then froze.

It wasn't there.

She remembered with a fury that she had dropped it earlier that morning when she tripped on the laundry basket, and she mentally swore further revenge against all of her siblings for the crime. They deserved it for the years of tormenting her anyway.

She dropped her math book heavily on the too-small desk and leaned over the homework paper, one hand on her forehead to hide her face as she stared down at the problems in the book.

She stared at the words and numbers while her classmates gradually filed in and took their seats around her. She barely acknowledged Tara's cheery 'good morning' as she read over the first word problem again and again, unable to focus long enough to finish it, and she tuned out the tardy bell and Mr. Barkin's gruff greeting to the class.

All she could think about was Brick's text. She couldn't remember another time he had asked her to call. In fact, their phone conversations usually ended with him interrupting whatever she was talking about and asking if he could call her back another time...which...he never did.

A telltale buzzing made her reach instinctively for her phone, and she frowned when it wasn't there. She glanced over at Tara in the next desk, who was grinning down at her phone in her lap.

Tara saw her friend's attention and after a moment and a glance at Mr. Barkin who was writing on the chalkboard, she passed the cell phone to Bonnie.

Bonnie smirked as she saw it was an update to Stoppable's blog, and she glanced to where the blond-haired boy sat next to Kim in the front row. He had his phone in his lap, and he seemed to be typing blindly with one thumb while his hairless pink pet typed at the same time. She frowned and shook her head in confusion as she looked back to Tara's phone for the latest gossip.

*A reliable source has reported that Dr. Drakken and Shego have been looking at real estate in Tahiti. Is it a new lair, or a romantic vacation home?*

Bonnie rolled her eyes and passed the phone back to Tara. While that pair of villains were among the most interesting, she was tired of the 'are they or aren't they?' that Stoppable kept spinning to keep interest in the blog.

"Well?" whispered Tara, and Bonnie looked at her while keeping one eye on Mr. Barkin. "What do you think?"

"I don't think it matters where they do it?" Bonnie whispered back.

"They're totally a couple!" Tara said with a small giggle, scrolling through the other posts on the blog.

Bonnie shook her head and looked down at her math book again, feeling like she might be able to focus at last. As she finally began writing figures on the paper to solve the first word problem, she realized she'd wasted most of homeroom and hadn't heard even a word of Mr. Barkin's lecture. She tried to tune into it as she wrote, ignoring the giggles off to her right and the grin of her cheer co-captain a few rows ahead.

It was bad enough she had to watch Kim and Ron making out in the hallway. The last thing she needed was to think about happy villain couples too, when she couldn't hardly remember the last time she'd had Brick's arm around her.

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"And five, six, seven, eight and aerial...three...down...V...and left, right, left, right and to-the-base!" Kim called out the beats of the cheer routine, watching with arms crossed in front of the bleachers.

Bonnie, up in front and with the mirrored role to Kim's, had the most difficult steps and was trying to complete her moves while also listening to Kim's commands to the rest of the squad for her timing. It was going well, exactly like she'd practiced in her bedroom the night before. They had collaborated on this routine and were sure it could win the next competition, but of course, they all had to start somewhere in learning it.

As she felt sweat beginning to form on her brow she remembered the competition last year, when Brick had sat in the front row cheering her on. She'd gotten a major thrill bragging about him to the girls from other squads, who had all been envious of her gorgeous, all-American boyfriend.

"And liberty...to scorpion... Bonnie!"

Bonnie felt the weight shift from Tara below who was her base, and realized she'd failed to shift into the scorpion pose. Which meant when Hope next to her, standing in for Kim, had nowhere to place her foot for the next move when their feet were supposed to touch. She watched in a mixture of annoyance, fear, and embarrassment as Hope went down despite Crystal's efforts, and she quickly lost balance too, landing in a forward lunge when her feet finally hit the gym floor.

When she righted herself she found every member of the squad staring at her. It wasn't often she found herself in this position, as it was usually her leading the glares toward Kim who was often distracted by her 'missions' and more recently, her steady boyfriend.

The heat came to Bonnie's cheeks and she crossed her arms and turned away with a frown.

"I didn't have the balance for scorpion, it would have been worse if I'd tried," she said by way of excuse.

"Maybe if you'd lose a few pounds," Tanzy said not entirely under her breath, earning a few gasps from the long-time members of the squad.

"Why, you—!"

"O-kay," Kim said with authority. "Bonnie, let's swap. You call the routine and I'll hop in."

Bonnie was torn in that moment between arguing that she wouldn't mess up again and taking the pass and actually watching the routine as she called it. She wanted to watch it again anyway, but she was uncertain in the moment which was the less embarrassing of the two options.

As Kim raised a questioning and slightly impatient brow in her direction, she rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"Fine, get up there."

Bonnie watched as Hope and Jessica swapped places, Jessica being Bonnie's stand-in as Hope was Kim's. Then when everyone was back in place in the starting positions, she began calling the counts and moves.

She was glad she'd made that choice, because she had no choice but to focus and for at least the rest of practice, Brick didn't enter her mind at all. Not even when they had played the music and she and Kim had both operated in their regular positions. She hated to admit it, but they were a good team as co-captains.

It wasn't until later after showering in the locker room and waiting for Tara to finish fixing her hair that Bonnie began to dwell on the situation with Brick again. She was also worried that he might have sent her another message while her phone was at home, somewhere on her bedroom floor. What if he had tried to call, and her lack of response made him think she was ignoring him? What if he'd wanted her to call right after school, or after cheer practice?

"What's wrong, Bonnie?"

Bonnie startled from her thoughts and realized her brow had been twisted in so much worry, that it hurt. She uncrossed her arms and pushed off of the wall in the girl's locker room where she'd been leaning.

"Nothing, you ready to go?" she asked Tara, who was fluffing her golden, wavy hair.

"You bet! I can't wait to see your gown! And guess what, the boutique left me a voicemail during practice. Mine came in today too!"

"Yeah that's great. I need to run home first, that all right?"

"Oh...sure, what for?" Tara asked, hurrying behind Bonnie who had slung her backpack on her back and started out of the locker room.

"For my phone," Bonnie answered somewhat impatiently.

"Ohhh right... Do you think Brick might have messaged you?"

Bonnie felt that pang in her chest again and increased her pace. She had confided to Tara about her missing phone, but hadn't fully admitted her fears that Brick was losing interest in her.

"Maybe. He usually waits for me to reply, unless he's asking for homework help."

Tara continued talking, but Bonnie barely listened until they reached her convertible in the parking lot. They tossed their backpacks in the trunk and then Bonnie sat heavily in the driver's seat with a sigh. The fall earlier during practice, though she had landed fine, had definitely been a shock to her system.

"Bonnie?"

"Hmm?"

"I said, do you think the hot pink will be too much?"

"I've been telling you for years to let go of the green."

"Well it's a kind of a—"

"Never-mind, I'll see it when we get there," Bonnie said as she started the car.

She stared straight ahead, ignoring the concerned and confused look she knew Tara was giving her. She grabbed her sunglasses off the car's sun visor and hid her eyes behind them.

She couldn't focus on the conversation about gowns with the possibility of a missed call from Brick swirling around in her head. Not to mention the sudden increased concern that her gown wouldn't fit after Tanzy's comment at practice.

Back in the locker room she had direly wanted to ask Kim if she had gained weight, knowing the red-head would be honest, but she hadn't. Now she wanted to ask Tara, but she wasn't sure if her friend wouldn't sugar-coat the answer just to please her.

Bonnie flipped the radio station to pop, Tara's favorite, and gave her a half-smile that seemed to assuage any concerns her friend may have had. She turned the music up higher to avoid any possibility of conversation and drove the familiar route back home, unable to deny the anxiety now coursing through her as the promise of getting to her phone was near.

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Bonnie parked her car near the house after driving perhaps too quickly up her family's long driveway, if Tara's slightly startled expression was any indication. She kept her sunglasses on to hide her slightly guilty expression as she grabbed her backpack from the trunk and hurried up the steps.

"If my sibs aren't around you can help yourself to anything in the fridge," Bonnie called over her shoulder as Tara hurried behind her.

She didn't feel like stopping at Bueno Nacho or anywhere else on the way to the boutique, but it had definitely been too long since lunch.

The house, gratefully, seemed empty when they went inside, and Bonnie nodded toward the fridge before heading down the hall to her room. It was just a quick stop for her phone and a snack before they would head back to try on their gowns.

In her room, Bonnie took her planner and the books for that night's homework out of her backpack and placed them on her desk, knowing she might forget otherwise after ballet later that night. She glanced at her watch as she dropped her backpack and began calculating how much time she would have, and then frowned. There was really only time to try on the dresses, make the final payment if they fit, and then drive Tara home. Then she would barely make it home through rush hour traffic in time for the family dinner, and then she would have to hurry off to ballet.

She wouldn't be able to start her homework until after eight thirty that night. Or call Brick.

A quick search of the room revealed her phone on the floor near the barre, and she flipped it open to find six missed text messages. Two were from Tara that morning, the second of which asking why she wasn't answering texts. Bonnie rolled her eyes.

She cringed at the text from Kim asking why she was late for practice, and it was with dismay she saw that the other three were from Liz, Crystal, and Hope. Brick hadn't sent any other messages, and there were no missed calls.

Bonnie put the phone in the hip pocket of her overalls, frowning at the discomfort it gave her since the older garment was slightly too snug.

'Or maybe you've just put on a few pounds...'

She shook that thought from her head as she fished in her backpack for her wallet. She glanced at the math book at the top of the pile of homework on her desk and frowned at the memory of turning in an incomplete paper earlier that day, and then she looked up at the mirror. Her hair was more limp for the rigor of cheer practice, but there wasn't time to do anything with it.

Bonnie chose a teal purse from the several she had hanging behind her door and shouldered it after putting her phone and wallet inside. She hurried back to the kitchen where she found Tara eating a pudding cup.

"Those are Jonny's," Bonnie commented, knowing her brother would be upset. Not that she cared... She just knew she would probably take the heat for it.

"Oh, sorry," Tara said with a small giggle as she licked the butterscotch from her lips.

Bonnie opened the fridge and after a sad perusal, she grabbed one of her brother's pudding cups too. She plopped down on the bar stool next to Tara and opened the cup, staring blankly at the cabinets opposite as she dug her spoon in.

"...Did Brick call?" Tara asked after a moment of silence.

"No," Bonnie said, then spooning a larger bite into her mouth. While she could no longer ignore the growing concern that Brick was losing interest in her, she still didn't want to talk about it. Because if Brick was in fact losing interest...she didn't want to think forward to what would come after that conversation.

"Ryan left me a message during practice," Tara commented.

Bonnie nodded approvingly as she licked her spoon.

"Status."

"But he was always trying to cop a feel," Tara continued with a frown.

Bonnie smirked. "And you care?"

Tara's frown deepened.

"Right, I get it. You're waiting for 'love'," Bonnie said, drawing out the last word sarcastically.

"So are you," Tara retorted, "unless something's changed?"

"Nothing's changed," Bonnie said, glancing back at the cabinets and letting her vision blur as she took another bite.

"Look, I like making out but Ryan just doesn't understand where the line is," Tara said thoughtfully.

Bonnie silently ate her pudding as she thought about her physical relationship with Brick. He was a good kisser, and she always felt a sense of pride curled up under his arm, whether they were at the movies or at a party after a game. He'd never given her any indications he wanted more, so they'd never talked about it. But what if...that was part of why he was losing interest now? Had he met someone else who gave him more?

Bonnie considered their on-again, off-again relationship over the past three and a half years. It was always she who had broken up with him when they were 'off,' due to his lack of attention or some rude comment he had made. She'd always just assumed he would be there when she had cooled down, and he was. Even the time he'd seemed interested in Kim during sophomore year, she hadn't worried, because she knew he wasn't Kim's type.

'Her loss!'

As she thought about it further, she realized that the last few times they'd broken up...she couldn't remember Brick protesting. Or even seeming that upset. Or...happy when she'd declared they were back together.

The pang in her chest turned to a swirling unease in her stomach, and she glanced to the side to see that Tara had just finished her pudding. She grabbed the small plastic cup and spoon out her hands, earning a surprised squeak, and carried them and her own unfinished pudding around to the sink where she dropped the spoons in and then tossed the pudding cups in the trash.

"Come on," Bonnie said abruptly, shifting her purse to her other shoulder. It had been on the one with the overall strap, and she realized the garment was a bit uncomfortable over her shoulder after all.

"What'd I say?" Tara questioned. "Look, I'm over that Ryan is a celebrity... Jason's never tried to push the boundaries, and that matters more to me."

"Fine, whatever," Bonnie said as she headed back out the door. "Long as he's got the cash."

"We go out," Tara defended her own on-and-off boyfriend.

"To places other than Bueno Nacho?" Bonnie accused as they got back into the car.

"Yes," Tara said emphatically, sounding almost hurt. "And he even told me he'll take me to Chez Couteaux before homecoming."

"How do you know he's not gonna turn out like Ryan did?" Bonnie retorted as she started the car.

"Bonnie!"

"Just saying," Bonnie responded with a shrug and a frown.

She turned the music back on as she backed the car out of the driveway. The conversation had only increased her worries about Brick to the point she didn't even bother denying them anymore. What if that was the reason he was distant from her? What if he had in fact found someone else who was more the kind of girl he wanted?

What...what was the kind of girl Brick wanted? Bonnie felt the uneasy feeling in her stomach intensify as she suddenly worried that she wasn't it...

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

"I've been telling you for years Tara, jewel tones," Bonnie said, watching Tara look uncertainly at the gown she wore that in Bonnie's opinion was a dream come true.

Tara's choice that year was a dark hot pink strapless mermaid gown, satin until the mermaid flare at the bottom where the material was tulle. The bust was covered in tiny rhinestones that faded away down the bodice, which Bonnie thought were a great compliment to her figure.

"Are you sure?"

"Sometimes your favorite colors just aren't ones you can wear," Bonnie said, leaning back on the bench and crossing her legs again. "With your hair, eyes, and complexion... Jewel tones, Tara."

Tara's expression brightened at Bonnie's reassurance, though her brow still showed uncertainty.

"Look, it's perfect. Just take it off and I'll put mine on," Bonnie said, rising from the bench and moving into the adjacent fitting room. She quickly divested herself of her shoes, overalls, and tank top and then carefully removed her gown from its hanger.

As she stepped into the dress and slipped the straps up over her shoulders, she felt a comfortable, familiar confidence settle over her that she'd lacked that day—the confidence of looking good.

She zipped up the black dress and adjusted the raspberry colored chiffon sash at the waist which folded and had a panel that draped down the front nearly to the floor. The dress had two high slits up each side and a deep V-neck, with straps that thinned over the shoulders. She smiled as she mentally pictured the way it would look with her hair and makeup done to perfection, and black heels to match. Ruby earrings would complete the look...

She straightened up in front of the fitting room mirror as a vision entered her mind of Brick standing at her side wearing a black tuxedo, with a cummerbund and bow-tie to match her sash. They would have to be dyed of course, along with roses for the corsages, but there was still plenty of time.

The excitement that had bubbled up in her chest at how great she and Brick would look walking into the homecoming dance together burst suddenly as all of her insecurities about their relationship suddenly came back. She felt in her purse for her phone and after pulling it out flipped it open. There had been no messages or missed calls in the time she and Tara and been out so far.

She turned to face the mirror again, posed and grinned, and then moved her phone around in one hand trying to get the best angle and also capture the entire dress. It took three tries, but she finally got an image she was okay with and sent it in a message to Brick.

*Match everything to the sash.*

As she looked at the image once more before pushing send she felt her confidence returning. She was the hottest girl at Middleton High, and Brick had never looked at anyone else in the almost three years they had been together. She had nothing to worry about.

She sent the text, put her phone back in her purse, and then exited the fitting room. Tara was dressed in her school clothes again and seated on the bench Bonnie had previously occupied, her folded hands atop the knee of her crossed leg which she was swinging as she smiled and waited patiently. When she focused her attention on Bonnie, her mouth fell open in a gasp.

"Oh, Bonnie that's gorgeous!"

"I know. Doesn't it just scream 'me'?" she said with a grin, slowly spinning and then striking a pose.

"It's perfect!"

"Like I said. Me."

Just then, a wolf-whistle startled them and drew both of their attentions to where about ten feet away a vaguely familiar red-headed teen boy stood. Bonnie realized in a moment it was one of their classmates, but she wasn't entirely sure of his name. She couldn't recall ever actually speaking to him.

"Smokin'!" he said, giving her a thumbs up and a grin that revealed less than perfect teeth.

Bonnie recoiled in mild disgust, though she couldn't argue with the compliment.

"Yeah, way too hot for you," Bonnie said in retort. She meant it derisively, but the look Tara gave her made her wonder if it had accidentally come off as flirty.

The guy continued looking her over without any pretense, and Bonnie racked her brain for his name. All she could really recall about him was that his tired, baggy eyes were always staring at a computer screen and that he had never once been in gym class.

"So, got a date for the homecoming dance?" he asked, his look becoming practically lascivious.

The boy's name finally registered in Bonnie's mind.

"Uh, yeah. And if you come with twenty feet of me at the dance Reiger, I'll tell my boyfriend Brick that you asked me out."

Ronald Reiger seemed to snap out of his hormone-motivated stupor, but it didn't last long as a devious smirk returned to his face.

"I didn't think Flagg liked his babes with so much junk in the trunk. But I sure do," Reiger said, wagging his eyebrows knowingly.

Bonnie sputtered incoherently for a moment before a shrill scream left her throat. Every face in the boutique suddenly turned to look at her, and Bonnie's face reddened in both anger and embarrassment as Reiger left the store laughing.

Bonnie's hands were clenched in fists at her sides as she seethed, the conversation already replaying in her mind. So focused was she on the horrible things Reiger had said, that she didn't notice Tara had been speaking to her until she felt her friend's hand on her shoulder.

"He never even goes to the dances. Just ignore him."

Bonnie took a deep breath and tried to calm down, but she still felt the sting of embarrassment as multiple eyes continued to watch her.

"Tara," she began, not liking how pathetic her voice sounded, "have I gained weight?"

"No! If anything you're slimmer," Tara said, her usual happy-go-lucky smile back on her face.

"Really?" Bonnie asked, starting to straighten up from the hunch she'd not realized she'd fallen into.

"Oh yeah. You look great! Especially in the varsity cheer uniform. You rock it!"

Bonnie looked straight into Tara's eyes and saw the sincerity; she wasn't just trying to butter her up.

She pushed her hair back and fought the twisting of emotions in her chest, glancing away when she finally said a quiet, "Thanks."

"Besides, Reiger's been crushing on you since middle school," Tara continued thoughtfully, "but I've never seen him with anyone. He's probably got his own issues."

Bonnie looked up in surprise. "Since middle school!?"

Tara looked confused. "Yeah. I thought you knew."

"Ew! No, that's the first time I've ever acknowledged that loser's existence!"

Tara looked confused again. "Don't you remember he asked you to dance in seventh grade, at the welcome back dance?"

Bonnie blinked at her. "I thought you said he never goes to dances."

"Not since that one. He asked you to dance and you said no."

Bonnie searched her memory, but all she could recall of that first dance in seventh grade was how hot she had looked in her black and white leopard print skirt and hot pink blouse with the matching collar.

"Ugh, let's just pay for the gowns and get out of here before some other loser shows up."

"Hey," Tara said, and Bonnie felt a hand on her shoulder again, "this was fun. We barely hang out anymore. I'm glad we could fit this in."

"Yeah," Bonnie said with a quick smile before hurrying back into her fitting room.

As she changed back into her crop top and overalls she thought about Tara's words. It was true, they hadn't been hanging out as much since Tara had finally given up on that loser Stoppable part-way through junior year. Once she had stopped pining over him she found she enjoyed dating around, which meant less time for friends. And of course, varsity cheer took up more of both of their free time. They hardly saw each other outside of school activities anymore.

Bonnie considered the things in her own life that were keeping her busy. Ballet was four nights a week now that she was in the highest level, and for the past month she had spent all of her free time...worrying about Brick's diminishing communication. They had only been out on a date once in the last three weeks, but she realized she had been purposely keeping her evenings free just in case he wanted to see her. He was only going to the University of Lowerton after all, so it wasn't that far a drive.

But he hadn't mentioned going out once since their last date. He only responded to her messages, and barely at that...

Bonnie scowled as her mood soured again, but she didn't let it impact her carefully hanging the gown back on its hanger. The boost she had gotten from trying it on had already faded, and she was eager to get home so she could hopefully have a chance to call Brick in between dinner and ballet. A glance at her phone showed he hadn't replied to her message with the photo of the dress.

The overall strap on her shoulder was suddenly bothering her, and after a very brief moment she unhooked it and let the bib fall fully down and the strap down her back, a moment later looping both straps through the belt loops on the garment so they wouldn't flop too much. As she looked at her reflection in the mirror she reconsidered the decision for a moment, noting just how much of her midriff was showing due to the high crop top and how low the overalls fell. But she shook her head and shouldered her purse and turned away from her reflection. Because despite herself, she couldn't even distract herself thinking about Tara's compliment because she was no longer able to hide the worry in her eyes.

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

Bonnie shut off the car and then sank low into the leather seat, exhausted as she stared at the reflection of the golden sunset off her dash. She ran her mind back over the day's events, each recollection interrupted by the harsh, stabbing worry about Brick's text.

She felt a small measure of calm as she remembered how Tara had leaned down into the car to hug her when she had dropped her off at her home. Her friend had thanked her for a fun afternoon and promised to see her the next day with her usual bright smile and wave as she left.

Why couldn't Brick be more like Tara? Bonnie never had to worry that Tara wouldn't answer a text, or be less than honest about their friendship. If Tara was upset about something, Bonnie knew it in a moment from the look on her friend's face.

She also realized with sudden guilt, which she quickly shoved down, that she wasn't always quick to make amends when she and Tara got into disagreements. And yet, Tara...was still there.

She forced away the strange swirl of emotions in her chest and turned her thoughts to Brick again. Had she done something to upset him, and that's why he was distant? He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, and he had always been extremely easy-going in high school. It was one of the things she liked about him actually... He did whatever she wanted, and she got to show off her man candy wherever she went.

She startled suddenly, her eyes seeking something to focus on as too many realizations hit her all at once. Could Brick be avoiding her because she only treated him like a tool? And...since when did she no longer want that with him, and want to be treated like an actual girlfriend?

Her mind was racing for answers, and when she looked at her reflection in the rear-view mirror she saw the truth in her own eyes. She had wanted more for a long time, but hadn't been giving Brick anything to let him know that.

Another strange mix of emotions hit her as she fought against the revelation she had just had. She didn't need a relationship. She didn't need to give and take, or to care about someone else's needs. Winners didn't need other people, after all.

Even as her head spoke the defiant thoughts, an image of Tara's smile and the memory of her hug before they parted that evening flew across her mind's eye. She sighed and slumped back in the seat again.

Who was she kidding?

She grimaced as she reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. Brick had said to call her... It was time to put herself out of her misery and stop living in a high school fantasy. If she really did...want more...she would have to give more.

She pressed the speed dial with an ironic grimace and held the phone to her ear. It connected after four rings.

"Hello?" He sounded confused, which made her stomach twist in unease.

"Hey Brick, baby," she greeted with a smile, though it didn't reach her eyes.

"Oh, hey," was the response in his usual smooth tone, but it was lacking the smile behind it.

"Did you get the photo of my gown?" she asked, avoiding any more difficult topic for the moment.

"Yeah, it's smokin'!" he said, and Bonnie felt some of the unease leave as she heard the smile in his voice. She also recalled that Ron Reiger had used that exact term to describe the dress, and her face fell.

"Do you need me to send you the address of the boutique to get your cummerbund and bow-tie dyed?" she continued in a hurry.

"Yeah about that..."

Bonnie felt her throat constrict and immediately tried to calm her breathing. Before she could speak, Brick continued.

"I don't think we should see each other anymore."

Bonnie's chest heaved as her breaths came more quickly.

"What... You...you...are breaking up with me?" Bonnie sputtered. They weren't the words she wanted to say, but they were the ones that came out.

"Yeah... So no hard feelings," Brick said. It sounded final, and Bonnie gripped her phone hard as she leaned forward in a panic.

"Wait! Can...can we talk about this?" she stammered.

"Talk...?" Brick sounded confused by the suggestion.

"Yeah, like...like...why?"

"Oh, well... I feel like since I went to college we've...grown apart?" Brick answered, still sounding confused. "And like...we didn't really know each other that well anyway."

"What do you mean?" Bonnie gasped, her instincts taking over again. "We talked almost every day for three years, we went out all the time, I even hung out at your house with your lame-o family!" Bonnie cringed at the instinctive insult she'd given and hurriedly backpedaled. "I mean..."

"Yeah, and like...that's just it," Brick continued in the voice she knew so well, sounding much more himself. "We did all those things and I don't...really know you."

Bonnie blinked several times, fighting the onset of tears. Her mind was a jumble of searching for excuses and counter-arguments, as well as the distracting interruptions of how she basically been treating Tara exactly the same way she had treated Brick.

"Well...then let's get to know each other," she finally said. She looked in the rear-view mirror at her stricken expression, and then her eyes fell to the reflection of the short crop top she was wearing. "And like...if you come over Saturday, my parents won't be home all weekend."

She had lowered her tone on the last, hoping to sound seductive. Her heart raced for fear with the implication she had just given him. That wasn't what she really wanted, but she was desperate.

"No thanks... It's just not gonna work between us. I'm sorry, but...it's over."

Bonnie clutched the phone tighter, breathing into the receiver as no words came while tears filled her eyes. A moment later the line disconnected, and she let a sob escape her lips as she listened to the dead air at the other end of the line.

She closed the phone and dropped it back in her purse, then wiping the tears from her eyes.

'Winners don't cry, winners don't cry...'

She tried desperately to force the tears away, but as she replayed the conversation with Brick in her mind they kept coming. She turned her gaze upward as she grabbed a tissue from the box in her center console, but she didn't dry her eyes yet.

The resounding finality of Brick's statement, 'it's over,' kept looping in her mind and causing a torment of indecision. There was a part of her that wanted to call him back and fight to keep him. She even wondered if driving to Lowerton for a salacious meeting would change his mind after all.

That idea made her heart pound in anxiety, and she recalled her earlier conversation with Tara. It wasn't what she wanted... But...she still wanted Brick.

She dried her eyes, and on that thought she shouldered her purse, and then carefully took her plastic-wrapped homecoming gown out of the trunk of the car. The sudden realization that she had no date for the dance started the tears anew, but she didn't stop and headed for the house.

'Winners don't quit...'

When she walked inside, the telltale sounds of quiet conversation told her that her family had already started dinner. She wiped her eyes once more with her free hand and held the gown up so that when she passed through the kitchen it would detract attention from her.

"Bonnie..." was the disappointed greeting from her mother when she turned the corner. Bonnie held the gown up higher.

"Sorry, I had to take Tara home. Her gown came in too."

"Ugh, why do you hang out with such fashion rejects..." Lonnie said.

Bonnie didn't even make eye contact. "For your information she got a hot pink dress this time. And even if she does need a little help with fashion, at least she's a real friend."

"Since when do you have real friends?" Connie said with a giggle.

"Girls," their father admonished.

"Bon-Bon, what are you wearing?" her mother asked, noticing her attire despite the gown she was holding up to block their view.

Jonny leaned forward on his elbows with a smirk and raised his eyebrows, and the three sisters glared at him.

"Gross!" they all said in unison.

"Just looking to see if she actually grew a pair or if it's still just socks," Jonny said.

"Like you've ever seen real ones," Lonnie countered.

"Right back at ya, Sis'," Jonny snickered.

"Ugh!"

"Like you've ever seen more than two brain cells," Connie continued the argument.

"Bonnie, surely you had something you could have worn a bra with..." her mother continued over the adult children's argument.

"I had the overall bib up all day," Bonnie said with a slight scoff, and then added in a mutter, "well, half of it."

Her slight embarrassment and annoyance with her family was overriding the hurt of losing Brick, for at least the present moment, and she hurried down the hall to her room to hang up her gown. After she had done so she leaned on her desk with a heavy sigh, staring down at the mountain of homework.

She looked up at herself in the mirror. Her face wasn't as puffy as she feared, and she hurried down the hall to the bathroom to wash off the tear stains. She made the mistake of replaying the conversation with Brick in her head again as she did so, and her tears flowed again. She permitted herself a few whimpering sobs this time, in hopes that doing so would help purge some of the emotional turmoil and let her get on with the evening.

A harsh knock at the door startled her, and she hurriedly splashed more water onto her face and added some soap to clean off her ruined makeup. She'd gone to ballet without it before, though she hadn't in awhile.

"Just a minute!" she called more loudly than was necessary.

"Take a chill pill, Bonnie," came her brother's mocking voice.

Bonnie felt a renewed embarrassment and annoyance about his earlier comments and scowled as she turned off the faucet and dried her face.

"There are other toilets in this house where you can sit and play video games, you know," she retorted.

"Yeah but I'll be bothered in those," he said matter-of-factly.

Bonnie checked her face again and after hanging the towel she opened the door with a sharp jerk.

"Whoa, fan the flame, Bon-Bon!"

"Don't call me that," she bit back as she stalked past him and back down the hall.

She listened to his snickering and the closing of the door as he escaped the family dinner for at least awhile, and she began changing for ballet. As she did so she told herself she wasn't going to think about Brick anymore. She could easily get a hot date for homecoming, and she could start work on that the very next day. All she needed to worry about for the rest of that night was dinner, ballet, and homework, in that order.

She forced her mind to think about the difficult routine she was going to need to rehearse that evening as she put on her pink tights, black leotard, and ballet slippers. After that she stood in front of the mirror, already feeling more composed for how elegant she looked in the attire that spoke of over a decade of hard work. The word 'regal' even crossed her mind as she pulled her hair up into a French twist.

She considered going back to dinner in just her ballet outfit, but considering Jonny's comments she threw on a baggy teal Club Banana logo t-shirt over her leotard. And then after checking that her pointe shoes were in her ballet bag, she dropped her purse inside and zipped the bag up and headed back out to face her family.

"Bonnie, you missed almost all of dinner," was her mother's sad greeting when she re-entered the kitchen.

Bonnie dropped her bag behind her chair and then grabbed a plate to serve herself some food.

"It was a busy day," she said, again more harshly than was warranted. She swallowed guiltily when her father looked at her over the rims of his glasses.

"Connie was just telling us about the seismology research project she's working on in college," her father said as he cleared his throat.

"Yeah," Lonnie interrupted, "and if we keep listening to it we're not going to have time to talk about my date tonight."

Bonnie noticed her bottle-blonde sister's attire for the first time—a too-tight strapless periwinkle mini-dress, with a sparkling crystal necklace and earrings to match. Her makeup was also overdone, which wasn't atypical.

"So who's this one?" Bonnie asked boredly, moving her spoon through the pasta salad as she sat at the table with her family.

As Lonnie described her 'hot date' who worked for a modeling agency, Bonnie's thoughts instantly drifted to her lack of a date for the homecoming dance, and then beyond. She considered her sister who dated anyone who might be able to give her a jump-start into a film or modeling career. Lonnie didn't seem interested in a serious relationship...

Bonnie realized all of a sudden that she herself was. She couldn't do what her sister did. And while she didn't yet know what she wanted to do after high school (another worrying thought that she would bury until she had no choice) she knew she didn't want to date guy after guy... She had never really enjoyed that. Which meant that apparently...she wanted something steady.

"Bonnie?"

She re-focused as she realized she was being spoken to—it was her turn to share about her day.

"Well I got my gown, not that anyone noticed," she began.

"It's lovely, dear," her mother said.

Bonnie tried not to frown at the aged-sounding appellation.

"Thank you, Mom," she said, tossing a glare at her sisters. "We also made a lot of progress on the cheer routine for regionals. It's too fussy, like all of Kim's routines, but I've got to admit...it'll be pretty cool when we've got it down."

"Have you given us that date for our calendars, Bonnie?" her father asked without looking up from his meal.

"Yes. And the ballet. And the homecoming game, and the dance so you don't schedule anything over it."

"Will Brick be taking you to the dance?"

Bonnie felt her entire frame tense, but she forced her face to calm and took a swallow of her food to both give herself a moment to compose herself and to force down the lump rising in her throat.

"No, he's busy," she lied easily. "Besides, I'll be voted homecoming queen so I should go with whoever is voted king."

"You? Queen?" Connie said, and she and Lonnie began to snicker. The sound of Jonny's deeper voice joining theirs was the family's cue that he had returned from his 'bathroom break' and Bonnie glared at all of her siblings in turn as her brother retook his seat.

"Well of course it will be me. Who else could it be?" Bonnie asked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms indignantly.

"Probably that red-haired babe you can't get along with, what's her name?" Jonny asked.

"Ugh, that fashion don't dating the biggest loser in the school? As if!"

"Check the facts, Bonnie, she's a world-famous hero and she was on the cover of every fashion magazine that mattered two years ago," Connie said.

"Yeah. Don't you remember when we all wore Kim-style?" Lonnie added.

Bonnie scowled and let her frustration out in a growl. "That was before she had a loser boyfriend, though."

"Are people treating her any differently?" her father cut in.

Bonnie blinked as she considered. People had always liked Kim Possible, ever since middle school when they had met. And that had never changed. Kim wasn't part of the 'in-crowd' or any crowd really, but everyone still liked her and she was—Bonnie mentally groaned—friendly to everyone. And nothing at all had changed since she'd started dating her long-time dweeb of a best friend.

"No," Bonnie admitted.

"Probably gonna be her then," Jonny said, between two large bites. "She's a babe."

Bonnie's face felt hot in a mixture of embarrassment and rage as she saw her sisters nodding in agreement, but she said nothing. To argue would only reveal a weakness on her part.

"Whatever. I'm going to ballet," Bonnie said, dropping her spoon and reaching behind her for her bag.

"But Bon-Bon, you just got home," her mother protested.

"Yeah, and the performance is in two weeks! I want the extra warm up time. I'll see you later," she said over her shoulder as she departed.

She tuned out the continued protests and snippy comments from her siblings as she left the house and hurried down the dimly lit sidewalk to her car. The sun had set and the air had begun to cool, but it had a different feel than that of the morning chill. The morning had felt fresh, almost hopeful, and like she could take on the world. This chill was a descending weight, and felt like it would sap every last ounce of her strength.

Bonnie put up the roof of her convertible as suddenly every conversation she'd had that day began playing through her mind. And try as she might, she wasn't able to stop them.

The blaring of the radio on her drive to the theater couldn't stop them, nor could attempting to distract herself thinking about the challenging steps she would need to complete in the rehearsal that night. Instead, she heard a chaotic chorus of voices that seemed bent on the goal of severing every last thread of what made her...Bonnie.

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

The voices continued throughout her warm-up stretches, and through the initial routine that Mlle. Catriona had the dancers perform in the warm-up room. Bonnie uncharacteristically stood in the back, t-shirt on as she moved mechanically through the familiar steps.

"You mean they actually found a dress to fit that shape?"

"Maybe if you'd lose a few pounds."

"I didn't think Flagg liked his babes with so much junk in the trunk."

Bonnie barely heard the accompaniment of the bright piano rhythms, so loud were the day's memories. Was she actually gaining weight? Was that why Brick had really lost interest in her?

"If anything, you're slimmer."

The recollection of Tara's words didn't do much to calm her fear that she might in fact be heavier. She looked at her distant reflection in the mirror from the back row of dancers, and then started to look around at her peers. She was definitely more shapely than the rest, but...she wasn't overweight; she was just the atypical curvy ballerina, in comparison. Still...she was suddenly glad she'd kept her t-shirt on.

Bonnie focused on Tara's encouragement and let that carry her through the rest of the warm-up until the class moved to the main stage to begin rehearsal of scenes for the upcoming performance of Swan Lake. An unusual self-consciousness hit her as she pulled off her t-shirt after tying on her pointe shoes, but she shook it off and held her head high. She had earned the principal role in the ballet and clearly, her weight wasn't an issue to her teacher or the director.

Across the stage, Matteo, who played the principal male role opposite to hers, grinned and waved at her. She smirked and waved back. Matteo was a winner like she was, and they worked well together. She had been very pleased when learning he had been cast in the role of the prince.

"I don't think we should see each other anymore."

Brick's words over the phone suddenly came back to her like the stab of a knife, and her smirk dissolved. She saw the confusion on Matteo's face, but she glanced away and half-listened as Mlle. Catriona gave some last minute direction before they would begin rehearsal of the pas de deux that ended Act III. Thankfully, she had no feeling that she might cry at this recollection. But the crushing weight and pain of loss were still strong, such that she realized suddenly she had placed a lot more value on the relationship with Brick than she had previously thought.

The rehearsal piano began again, and Bonnie began moving through the practiced steps.

"We did all those things and I don't really know you."

The memory of Brick's explanation for the break-up sent another stab of pain through her chest. How could he say he didn't know her? He knew her class schedule, and all of her extracurriculars...

Her thoughts stopped suddenly as she realized that Brick was right. They didn't...really know each other. They knew their schedules, what kinds of movies they liked, and the local school gossip, and that they both understood athletic discipline. But otherwise...

Bonnie swallowed nervously as she considered the boy—young man—who had taken seven years to graduate high school that she had dated on and off for three years. Brick Flagg...was hot. That was it. She didn't really know much about who he was. That suddenly concerned her as she looked around at the other dancers on the stage. Some of them she knew more about than even the girls on the cheer squad. Yes, with the cheerleaders she could gossip. But the ballerinas talked more about real life—their jobs, their plans for after high school, their families... Some were even already in college.

Bonnie moved to the wings of the stage, catching her breath as the coda of the dance approached. Matteo's leaps were majestic, and Bonnie smiled as she watched the fellow athlete who was very attractive—just not in the bulky way that most appealed to her—and who she realized she also knew better than she knew Brick. She didn't even know what Brick was studying... But Matteo was preparing to audition for the New York Ballet. And as a hobby, he did woodworking.

She had no idea what Brick's hobbies were, or if he even had any.

"It's over."

There was a greater finality as she replayed Brick's words in her mind again, and it was with great annoyance she realized the tears were beginning to flow. She almost missed her cue as the piano changed, but she set her jaw and held her head high as she retook the stage.

She found her mark and set up for the fouettes. She had managed twenty-seven the last time and was hoping to make it an even twenty eight this time. She heard the anacrusis of the music and began to spin, executing the practiced technique with skill. But as she spun, blurred images of faces watching her suddenly brought the fears back to her mind.

Was she too heavy? Did the turns look awkward as a result? Did the other ballerinas gossip about her when she wasn't there, the way she gossiped about each cheerleader in turn when they weren't around?

"Since when do you have real friends?"

The memory pushed her out of the intense focus that her spin required, and with a small cry, Bonnie fell out of her eleventh fouette. She quickly moved back to the mark and resumed, not wanting to stop because it would only bring more negative attention. She caught just a glimpse of surprised faces and heard gasps over the piano before she resumed the turns, counting them even though there was no point in her desperate search for distraction.

She may have overheard the other dancers talking about their lives over the years...but she didn't really tell them about her own. They weren't her friends anymore than anyone at school was.

As she finished the last fouette—twenty-one—she posed and smiled confidently despite the tear rolling down her cheek. She didn't look at Matteo as she passed him while he began his solo.

"You? Queen?"

Her siblings were right. Who would vote for her anyway? She talked badly about those she called 'friends' to everyone, and she didn't even acknowledge people like Reiger who had been in her class since middle school. She had started faltering in cheer practice, which never happened. And now she was even failing as the star of the ballet.

It was with this swirl of dark thoughts that she began the final sequence with Matteo, who broke character to give her a concerned look as her tears continued to flow. When finally the piano held the last chord Bonnie smirked as her character required, and posed while breathing through her teeth, trying to calm down.

"Are you okay?" Matteo asked quietly through the small wave of applause their fellow students gave.

Bonnie held her smile and allowed the eye contact, which only had the tears flowing more.

The moment the music stopped and the director began giving commentary, Bonnie interrupted with a hurried, "Excuse me," as she began rushing from the stage. The murmurs that followed made her feel sick, and none more than one of the other girls commenting: "Maybe she's going to call Brick."

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

The rest of the rehearsal had gone better. Bonnie had dried her tears and shoved the emotions away with her mantra of 'winners don't cry' and had channeled all of her focus and energy into making up for the earlier mistake and emotional slip. People acting differently toward her the rest of the night had only driven her further, and while she might not have given the most artistic performance, technically, she was flawless.

She had left the theater with that small measure of control giving her a touch of strength, and she maintained that feeling for the entire drive home. But once she had parked in the darkened driveway and saw fewer lights on in her family's home, she felt the roiling of emotions start to return.

She shouldered her ballet bag and silently moved up the walk to the house, hoping that everyone had retired to their respective hobbies for the evening. And Lonnie of course was on a date and wouldn't be home for hours. All Bonnie wanted to do was take a shower and forget the horrible day.

Thankfully, she moved quietly enough that her brother—playing video games on the big screen now, since her parents had gone to bed early due to their flight the next day—was unaware of her presence. And as she passed by Connie's room, she heard her older sister gossiping on the phone.

When Bonnie closed her own bedroom door she felt a huge relief come over her at the same time a weight fell. She barely had the strength to pull her purse out of her ballet bag, and her phone of that before dropping the former on the floor and flopping on the bed with the latter.

She let herself rest for just a moment, her muscles tired from their exertion throughout the day and night, and then she sat up intending to get ready for a shower. But her gaze fell upon the stack of books and homework on her desk.

"Unghh..." she groaned aloud, flopping down on her bed again and dropping her forearm over her eyes and plunging her vision into darkness. She began mentally calculating how long it would take to shower and then tallying how many assignments she had due the next day.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a buzz from her phone which was still on silent from rehearsal. She flipped it open, her chest constricting at the thought it might be Brick.

It wasn't.

It was just a silly update from Stoppable's blog. Bonnie sneered in annoyance and almost dropped the phone, when she saw a comment alert pop up on the new post. It was Tara.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she opened up the post to actually read it.

*Drakken and Shego seen dining casually at Croutons. Is it a business meeting or a romantic interlude?*

Bonnie felt a pang as she looked at the photo that Stoppable or someone had snapped of the villain duo... Was Stoppable actually following them for this silly obsession?

She scrolled down to read Tara's comment which was full of emoticons and hearts, enthusiastic about the growing evidence that the pair might be romantically involved. The pang Bonnie felt before grew stronger. Even the villains that Possible fought were going to find their happy ending. While her relationship-which-wasn't had just ended.

With a heavy sigh and a few yawns, Bonnie changed into her pajamas and decided to forego the shower for the evening. It would only make her more tired, and she had a couple of hours of homework at least. And it was already past nine o' clock.

She moved to her desk and sat down, arranging her books in the order in which she wanted to tackle the assignments. Another buzz from her phone caught her attention, and she glanced at it to see that a debate had sprung up on Stoppable's blog about the blue and green-skinned villains. It seemed even Kim was weighing in, in favor of the two being together, which thrilled Tara.

Bonnie considered her friend again, who she'd given so little time to throughout senior year. And who despite that and her general careless and casual treatment of her...was perhaps the only real friend she had.

An emotional tug of war began within Bonnie then, which she finally ceded to as she flipped to her messages and typed a quick text to Tara.

*Thanks for coming with me today. I'm going to be up late finishing homework if you want to join me in snore-ville.*

She sent the text and felt the emotions in her chest start to calm. She looked in the mirror and sighed as she felt some of the tension leave her shoulders.

'Winners never quit.'

Her phone began buzzing with the notification of a call. On the screen was Tara's name, and Bonnie smiled.

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

Days Later...

Bonnie stood on the football field and adjusted her black skirt, knowing she looked perfect, but unable to get Kim's and Monique's words out of her head. So strong was the swirl of nerves building in her stomach that she completely missed Tara's wave of encouragement from the sidelines.

"In case you didn't notice, now Kim is the one dating the star of the football team."

"Ron has broken more school records than Brick ever did."

Bonnie's siblings had been right... In the days that had followed her picking up her gown from the store with Tara, all the buzz around school was that Kim was the one slated to win the title. Bonnie tried to tell herself she didn't care, but the buzz had been equally clear: Ron Stoppable was expected to win king.

Bonnie tried to ignore what that would mean for her. Still dateless, humiliated, and no longer the center of attention...anywhere. The senior table in the cafeteria was meaningless, since they were all seniors. And the only people who cared anyway were brainless jocks, as it turned out. She was an equal with Kim on the cheer squad, but since they had taken roles as co-captains it was becoming very clear who was in fact more skilled between them at the sport, and it wasn't Bonnie. She was even slipping in ballet, and still wondered if her curves and weight might be an issue. And of course, ever since Kim had...saved the world...from those Bueno Nacho toys, everyone treated the red-head exactly like who she was: a hero.

While Bonnie herself was ignored and forgotten.

Soon Mr. Barkin would announce Kim and Ron as the Middleton High homecoming king and queen, and they would get even more attention. While for the remainder of Bonnie's senior year she would fade into obscurity. But without all of the things that cheer and ballet and Brick's status had brought to her...was she still a winner? Who...who was she?

"This year we replaced our old-fashioned paper ballots with our own state of the art electronic voting system, which snagged second place for Ron Reiger in the Tri-City science fair."

Bonnie absorbed Mr. Barkin's words and in a flash an idea struck her about how to get her identity back.

Ron Reiger was seated near the sideline with his whatever-device that everyone had used to vote for king and queen. Bonnie ran out of the row of nominees into Reiger's line of sight, who looked at her with the same leer he had back at the boutique. It turned her stomach, but Bonnie ignored it to give him a flirty smile and a 'call me' gesture. Reiger's leer grew, and after giving her a knowing smile he typed something into his device and a new paper printed out.

Bonnie sighed in nervous satisfaction as she hurried back to her place near Kim. She might not be the best cheerleader. She might not even be the best ballerina or best student anymore. She might have lost her boyfriend. She might be...all alone... But she was going to be homecoming queen. And once she was, she could start getting her identity back.

Because Bonnie Rockwaller was a winner, and she always would be.

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chandelier-s-notebook · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 8

Let me know if you wanna get tagged when I post new chapters in “These Streets Are Made For Walking”. @sleepysnails.

Ao3 Link

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

It’s the next Wednesday when the Foster Bitch climbed the stairs up to Techno’s room. Knocking on the doorframe twice, she entered without waiting for an answer.

“Tommy hasn’t been to school all week, and the school called about unexcused absences.” She frowned at him. “You share a room with him, and don’t you drive him to school? Where is he?”

Techno threw his earbuds on his bedside table. “No idea Ma’am. I haven’t seen him since you sent him to pick me up from the station last Thursday. He woke up early and took the bus. I figured he was mad at me and at Tubbo’s. Dream’s been suspended for the incident, so I couldn’t exactly ask him.”

“Don’t you have his number?” she asked in an accusatory tone.

“Yes. But you confiscated his phone two weeks ago.”

“Oh.” She seemed to be taken aback for a second. “Shouldn’t you have Dream’s?”

“That’s for work. Like I said, I thought Tommy was at Tubbo’s. I didn’t think anything was wrong.”

“Mr. Richmon is in the kitchen.”

Ranboo’s dad. “Oh fuck.” Techno rolled out of his bed. He honestly would rather stay on his phone, but she was clearly offloading this on him, and Techno was going to make sure Tommy still had friends. Going to Ranboo’s was the best dinner Tommy ever gets. He doesn’t eat that much when he’s over, because he’ll just vomit it up, but the leftovers he takes back last the two of them a good week. Tommy may not want to be a bother and use up their resources, but Techno knows that he thinks of those leftovers as paying Techno back for everything he does.

Techno rushed down the stairs, jumping two at a time. The old stairs creaked as his feet hit their tops, the planks bending under his weight. In a moment of hesitation Techno stopped suddenly, sliding a little on his socks. He took a moment to collect himself, before making his way into the kitchen.

“Mr. Richmon,” greeted the Foster Bitch appearing next to him. “This is Techno, he’s probably the closest person to your son as Tommy hasn’t been around lately.”

“We’ve crossed paths,” Techno said, straightening his tee-shirt collar.

“Parent teacher interviews, was it?” Mr. Richmon asked, sending a little glare to the Foster Bitch and offering Techno his hand.

His grip was firm, but Techno’s was comparable. “What brings you here?”

“I haven’t seen my son since Friday.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve been calling him in absent for a prolonged family issue, but I am well aware of the company he keeps.” Mr. Richmon kept his tone light, but the accusation is heard loud and clear as he pulls out a chair for himself.

Techno tips his head in understanding. “His friends aren’t that bad,” he defends. “But I understand your concern with Tubbo and Purpled’s brothers.”

Mr. Richmon gestures to Techno, “And Tommy’s.”

“I’m not Tommy’s brother. This is a group home. We aren’t related,” he dismissed immediately. “The other guys are blood though.”

Both the Foster Bitch and Mr. Richmon gave him weird looks at his comment.

Techno took them in stride. So what? He knows he’s lying to himself more than he’s trying to convince them. “I can ask Dream and Punz if they know anything,” Techno suggested. “I assume you don’t want to be seen with them?”

Mr. Richmon nodded. “Of course not. This place is dingy enough.”

The Foster Bitch looks affronted, but Techno shushed her with a look. “I’ll try to find your son, but might I recommend going to the police.”

“The less the police know the better,” Mr. Richmon said like it was a mantra of his.

Techno nodded, already trying to figure out how he was going to deal with this. He was the getaway driver who did his homework. Sure he knew a few things, but he didn’t have any street skills. He remembered the purple hoodie at the gas station; he might have wanted to stay oblivious, but he knew who he saw.

Techno and Mr. Richmon left the house at the same time. They got into their respective cars and they drove in opposite directions. Techno headed to Punz’s place--might as well check if they were there. Techno honestly doesn’t know why he had Punz’s key on his lanyard, but due to it he didn’t bother needing to knock.

“Techno’s here!” he shouted; can’t ever be too careful at the mercenary’s house. He doesn’t hear anything back, and since anyone who could possibly be here would shout back in greeting, he assumed that the place was empty. But it doesn’t hurt to check around.

The thing about Punz and his profession is that he had to keep tabs on his targets, and the way he practiced and kept his skills sharp was by keeping tabs on his close associates. Therefore, he normally knows when people plan to stop by.

Techno walked into the living room and found a sticky note on the family computer. “Initiation collateral. Alive,” he reads.

Techno moved the mouse and the screen opened up to an article on one of the dark web sites. “New Las Nevadas Member: Merc. Punz’s Baby Bro.” He quickly scrolled down to the cover photo: open white van doors with Purpled and Tommy grappling on the ground, Ranboo and Tubbo nowhere to be seen. “Shit.”

As he skims the article he pulls out his phone and calls Dream.

He picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Tommy’s for sure not sleeping at your place is he?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

“For sure? Is everything okay?”

“No. Is Tommy there?” Techno pressed.

“No, and Tubbo hasn’t checked in with me for a while.”

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Techno lifted his shoulder, trapping the phone there so that both of his hands were free. He scrolled back up to see the picture again, confirmation that it was, in fact, real. He let out an unsteady breath, and shook out his hands.

“Why? What happened?” Dream’s voice picked up anxiously. “Did you hear something?”

“Yeah. So did Punz.” Techno took a deep breath. “Did he tell you anything?”

“I haven’t spoken to Punz in about a month,” Dream said.

“Mr. Richmon came by the home asking for his son.”

“The kids aren’t at Ranboo’s?” Dream asked, concern hardening his tone.

“Nope. Purpled’s on the news. The way that you’re on the news.”

The line was silent. “Fuck.” The sound of something breaking echoed down the line. “That’s. Bad.”

“Hope its ransom.”

There was a rustle on Dream’s end of the line, as if he was moving something. “Fuck. I’ll look into it. What did Purp get into?”

“Las Nevadas.”

“Fuck. Purpled. Why? What did Mr. Richmon say?”

“That Ranboo was missing and that he came to me because you and Punz live in too much of a shithole for him to visit.”

“I don’t live in a shithole!”

“This place is dingy enough, were his exact words.”

“Ouch.”

It’s been a week. Tubbo, Ranboo, and Tommy were thrown into the same room. It’s objectively a nice room, but a prison is still a prison no matter how lavish the cell. The beds were really comfortable, but it was barren besides them.

They don’t see Purpled again, instead Fundy Soot is the one to bring them their three meals a day. You’d think that one could never get sick of pizza, but eventually--especially with the mood so sour--there comes a breaking point.

“Did someone order a meat-lovers?” The door opens and Fundy is inside the room with three cardboard plates, two slices on each. “Your dinner is here.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tommy said digging into his slices.

“No, I don’t think I will.” Fundy smiles vindictively. Sue him, he hates babysitting duty. “Who’s gonna shut me up? Your brother?” he asks, looking at Tubbo. “That little amateur couldn’t do anything. Petty thieving is the highest form of sin you know?” Fundy said like he was reciting something.

“Shut the fuck up,” Tommy repeated, noticing how Tubbo froze.

“You too? What’s your brother going to do? He’s just the fucking getaway driver. He can’t help you. Big Brother Techno Blade isn’t as strong as you think he is, little Tommy.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Tommy shouted. “Techno may be friends with Dream, but he’s not doing that shit.”

“Didn’t you pick him up from the station? You’re lying to yourself. You know that Techno is in with Dream.”

“No he’s not! And don’t you have something better to do with your time? College or some shit?”

Fundy chuckled humourlessly. “The faster you eat, the faster I’m out of your room.”

Tommy glared and shoved a whole slice into his mouth.

“No one’s coming to save you,” he taunted.

“Shut up.”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full. We sent the ransom video,” he said moving onwards. “Instead Mr. Richmon hired Techno and Dream for free. Seems Daddy doesn’t care about his son enough to save you immediately.”

That’s the point that Tubbo broke. Tubbo could take a verbal bashing; Tommy would be pissed if he attacked on his behalf; but Ranboo? Ranboo was the most innocent here and didn’t need familial jabs.

Tubbo lurched from his bed and swung at Fundy Soot, sending him down to the floor. “Where the fuck is your big brother? He fucking failed you if you had to get dragged in the life style to survive.” Tubbo punched Fundy again after he was down. “Where is he huh? At least my brother managed to keep me out of this shit.”

Tommy rushes over to pull Tubbo back. “Shh. Shh. We can’t afford this. He's top dog here.”

Fundy laid on the floor, arms out and protecting his face.

“We’re done eating,” Tommy growls. “Get out.”

Ranboo, thoroughly shaken, picks up the plates and puts them in Fundy’s hands, standing in between the two groups so Fundy couldn’t retaliate. If any of them needed to come out of this looking pretty it’s him: the rich boy.

#Technoblade #Dreamwastaken #TommyInnit #Tubbo #Ranboo #Fundy #These Streets Are Made For Walking

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isolemnlyswearpevensie · 4 years ago

Text

Lightning in a Bottle | Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Warnings: None :)

Time/Era: Modern AU

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Music is Edmund’s love language, apparently.

Request: Hey! Could you possibly do a cute high school au with Edmund? Maybe they’re both crushing on each other and everyone knows except themselves, anything you wanna do really haha 😂 thanksss :)

A/N: Thanks for the request!! God, I love Edmund so much. And here, we have indie boi Ed. This oneshot is inspired by Electric Love by Børns. (Specifically, the video linked) This is one of my favorite songs, and I thought it fit the indie-main-character-high-school vibe :) I didn’t really nail the “everyone knows but them” thing, but still crushes! Enjoy ~

masterlist | here is a playlist of the songs in the mixtape mentioned | read on ao3

Edmund Pevensie was obsessed with listening to music, particularly with old musical technology. While it wasn’t uncommon to have a fascination with cassette tapes or vinyl records, it hit a special chord within Edmund’s heart. Something about listening to music, old and new, on the outdated tech made the music sound better, hit harder, and stick in his mind better. He was the type of guy who took the AUX on long car rides to play one of his thousand Spotify playlists.

Another notable thing about Edmund was that he was very intelligent with very high standards for himself. He was a natural at academics, having been in advanced classes since he was young, and he was the guy everyone hated in math class. After dozing off in class, and mouthing off to the teacher every now and again, he still came out as the teacher’s favorite and a straight-A student.

The majority of the time, though, he tended to keep to himself. While he was genuinely liked by his peers and was rather charming, he didn’t really consider anyone his friend. Unlike his older brother, Peter, he liked to remain closer to the shadows with earbuds in his ears. He knew he could never fill his brother’s shoes; Peter had basically come into Cair Paravel High School to be captain of the soccer team. He was so good that even though his grades were subpar at best, he received a full-ride scholarship to Archenland University to study sports medicine and play on their soccer team.

Then there was his older sister, Susan, who won her Student Body President campaign by a landslide. Everyone liked Susan; she was patient, gentle, and got along with pretty much everyone. She too got a pretty large scholarship to Beruna State College and is double majoring in child education and European history.

Finally, there was Edmund’s little sister, Lucy. She was only a freshman at Cair Paravel, and very into student council. Edmund thought she was practically made to be an ASB kid; she was excited, friendly, and much too kind. Lucy made the switch to high school seamlessly and had a big group of friends by the time the final bell rang on the first day.

Edmund was a senior now and he couldn’t wait to get out of high school. The people were unintelligent, he was constantly compared to his siblings and he was ready to start his life. Edmund had high ambitions to become a lawyer, specifically criminal law. He didn’t really have much to leave behind at this school, so he was just trying to get through it as soon as possible.

One thing he would miss was the quiet girl that sat behind him in his music appreciation class. Edmund didn’t really want to take the class, but at the last minute, he discovered he needed to fulfill an arts credit to graduate. He appreciated music and liked easy classes, so he chose this one. Little did he know it was mostly analyzing classical pieces.

Y/N was super cute in Edmund’s eyes. She always mumbled sarcastic comments whenever their easily excitable teacher, Mr. Tumnus, would stretch when over-analyzing a stanza of music. By the time October passed, Edmund had grown quite fond of the girl. She almost always was reading a comic book of some sort instead of paying attention in class. Y/N even ended up lending Edmund a few for his viewing pleasures; he always made sure to return them in the exact condition he received them. Batman seemed to Y/N’s favorite.

Y/N loved watching Edmund write. He held his pencil wrong and always had ink smudged all over his hand. Maybe it was because he was a leftie, or maybe it was because he wrote too fast. Probably a little bit of both. His handwriting was also weirdly slanted to the right, which didn’t make any sense to Y/N. He was left-handed but his letters slanted to the right? Not the mention how half of it was in cursive and half of it was in print. It was definitely messy but, oddly enough, still intelligible.

“What are you listening to?” Y/N asked Edmund. “Better not be Christmas music. Christmas was last month.”

Edmund pulled an earbud out of his left ear and turned so he was sitting horizontally in his chair. He leaned an arm on the top of her desk and grinned. “Currently, I’m listening to Can I Call You Tonight? By Dayglow. What are you reading?”

“Currently, I’m reading Volume 1 of The New Teen Titans,” Y/N copied Edmund. “I’ve never heard of Dayglow, are they good?”

Edmund smiled, offering her his earbuds. “Listen and see for yourself.”

As she listened Edmund searched her face for any clue to what she’s thinking. Her face housed a small smile so he concluded that she enjoyed it. Once the song ended, she took out one of his earbuds and placed it on her desk.

“I like it,” She concluded, listening to the next song.

“Good, so do I. It fits my mood for today.”

“What’s got you so happy today? You have a great way of showing happiness, by the way.” Edmund was dressed in all black with his hood up. Edmund rolled his eyes.

“What I can’t be in a good mood?”

“I never said that, Pevensie. You just look very Edmund-y today.” Y/N pulled the other earbud out of her head and held them out to him.

“No, keep listening. I’ll play some music for you throughout class and maybe you can tell me what you think at the end?” He pulled his hood off of his head and smoothed out his hair. “And what do you mean Edmund-y?”

“I don’t know, all black, hood up, dead look in your eyes.”

“I don’t have a dead look in my eyes!” Y/N giggled at her own joke. “Just for that, I’m going to take this.” He snatched the open comic book that laid open on her desk.

For the remainder of the class, Edmund dictated what Y/N listened to from his phone. He played everything from The Beatles, to The 1975, to COIN, to Duran Duran. Every now and then, Edmund would peek his head back to see her eyes glued to the back of his head. Her body swayed to the music almost lazily, and a smile graced her features. For some reason that made his stomach feel fuzzy.

She returned his earbuds at the end of class, and he returned her comic.

“That was fun,” Y/N complimented, shoving her materials into her bag. “I like the get better song you played.”

“I Wanna Get Better by Bleachers,” Edmund corrected her as they left the classroom. Music Appreciation was the class of the day for them, seeing as they were seniors who left at lunch, so the two started making their way towards the parking lot.

“You have to meet your sister right?” Y/N asks, pulling out her I.D. so she could leave campus. “The really sweet freshman girl? Honestly, you two are so different I wouldn’t have guessed you were siblings.”

“Oh, Lucy, yeah. We grab lunch every Thursday before I drop her back off for the remainder of her classes.” The two showed their I.D.’s to the campus aid and walked into the parking lot.

“That’s sweet. We should grab lunch sometime, or something. It could be fun! We could do our analysis questions about Bach.” Y/N started to walk in the opposite direction and Edmund felt his cheeks warm. Luckily, Y/N’s back was now towards him.

“Yeah, sure. Don Giovanni, right?”

Y/N’s laughter could be heard as she grew further away. “That’s Motzart, Pevensie!”

Edmund shook his head and met Lucy. She was leaning against his car looking bored.

“Who was that? Is that your girlfriend?” Lucy asks, opening the door once Edmund unlocks the car. This made his cheeks flush more.

“No, she’s just the girl that sits behind me in Tumnus,” Edmund puts the key in the ignition and starts the engine.

“Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not, Lucy. It’s just hot in the car, it’s been sitting out here for ages.”

One day in the middle of March when Y/N walked into Music Appreciation, she noticed a small rectangle box on her desk. Upon opening it, she found a cassette and a note. The note looked as if it was typed using a typewriter.

Y/N,

I’m not very good when it comes to words, but I’m good when it comes to music. Hopefully, this says it all. Enjoy, my love.

Side A //

Electric Love / Børns

I Love You So / The Walters

Fallingforyou / The 1975

Your Song / Elton John

Someone To You / BANNERS

Side B //

Babe, Can I Call? / The Hunna

Tonight (I Wish I Was Your Boy) / The 1975

Luv, Hold Me Down / Drowners

love somebody like you / joan

TV Dream / Larkins

Y/N didn’t recognize most of the songs, but just reading the titles made her blush.

“Mr. Tumnus? Did you happen to see who left this on my desk?” She held up the cassette so he could see. He shook his head.

“No, sorry.”

Other students started to trickle in and soon the bell rang, no trace of Edmund. It wasn’t uncommon for him to skip this class, it was basically pointless, but it made Y/N sad every time he wasn’t there.

The door swings open and a drenched Edmund steps into the classroom. Without even looking up, Mr. Tumnus addresses him.

“You’re late again, Mr. Pevensie.”

“Sorry, I got stuck behind a group of Sophmore girls who wouldn’t move.”

“In the rain?” Mr. Tumnus raised an eyebrow.

“No, if it was in the rain I would be wet right now, sir.”

He plopped into his seat and started raking his hands through his wet hair. His cheeks were slightly rosey, as were his nose. His lips were pinker than usual and they stayed slightly parted. Hair stuck to his forehead as he ran his fingers ran through it and the hair on the nape of his neck dripped down his back. Y/N had to stop herself from staring at him with her jaw unhinged.

“What’s that?” He whispered, noticing the open present on Y/N’s desk. He had taken up sitting horizontal in his chair at all times so he could more easily talk to Y/N.

“It’s a mixtape. It was left on my desk when I got here,” Y/N responded and handed him the note. Edmund took it and began to read; his eyes scanned the paper and his lips moved slightly as he read. Y/N couldn’t help her this time, so she allowed herself to stare. His lips were always so pink and so puffy. She fantasized about how soft they must be.

“Wow, looks like someone really likes you,” He comments, placing the paper back on her desk. “Do you have a cassette player?”

Y/N didn’t even consider that. Who the hell has a cassette player in the year 2020? Apparently, her answer was evident on her face, and Edmund chuckles. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a walkman and a pair of earbuds.

“Here, you can have mine. I got a new one last month and I don’t really use this one as much.”

Oh, Edmund has a cassette player in the year 2020.

Y/N smiled, taking the player from his hand. “Thanks, Ed.”

“Wouldn’t want you to miss out on those songs. Whoever made that has good taste, you’re lucky.”

When Y/N got home tonight, she took out her walkman. It sat easily in her palm, just big enough for the cassette to fit inside. On the bottom, “E.P.” was scratched into the plastic. She smiled and put her mixtape inside.

As she listened, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to Edmund. They had grown much closer in the past few months, even going lengths to hang out outside of school. Y/N learned that not only was Edmund extremely intelligent, but he was the funniest person Y/N had ever met. He always had a sarcastic comeback or joke to offer her, no matter the subject. He had also let many of his walls down, letting Y/N get to know him better. It all felt so comfortable and natural. No longer was he just the cute guy from Music Appreciation, but he was the pain in the ass that Y/N had fallen for. And Y/N had fallen hard.

Against her first impression of the mixtape, Y/N had actually heard all of these songs. After the first day in January, Edmund had lent her his earbuds near-daily and she would listen to whatever he played for her. Her eyes widened.

Why would Edmund carry around a cassette player he didn’t use? And to school for that matter? And the note; it was typed because Edmund had such distinct handwriting! Y/N rewound the cassette and listened to it again. Why didn’t she realize in the moment?

“Hello, Y/N,” Edmund greeted in the parking lot the morning, he happened to park next to Y/N. He gripped the coffee in his hand and got his backpack in the trunk. “How are you on this fine morning?”

“Tired, I stayed up, like, half the night listening to that cassette I got yesterday.” Y/N slung her own backpack over her shoulder. He closed his trunk and locked his car.

“Yeah? And what did you think?” The two started walking towards the building.

“I thought that the songs all sounded oddly familiar.”

Edmund took a long sip of his coffee. “Like you’ve heard them before?”

“Mmhm,” Y/N hummed and walked onto campus. She held one of the straps of her backpack as she walked. “Almost as if this dumbass guy I know played them for me a while back,” Y/N’s voice was teasing and light.

“Yeah? Who is this guy?” Y/N stopped walking and looked up at Edmund.

“Thanks for the mixtape, Ed.”

“Whaaaat...just because this guy has great taste in love songs doesn’t mean it was me. I’m flattered though, really,” Edmund took another long sip of his coffee.

“Oh, what a pity. I actually got excited when I figured out it was you. Considering normal people don’t just carry cassette players in their backpacks. Especially not ones they don’t use anymore.” Y/N’s voice was thick with sarcasm.

“Excited?”

“Yeah. I’ve kinda liked that Edmund guy for a while, but he doesn’t like me back so…”

“You like me back?” Edmund was grinning from ear to ear.

“Yes, babe, I like you back. I have since October since I started letting you borrow my comics,”

Edmund placed his coffee on a bench and pulled Y/N closer to him by the hips.

“October, huh?” Y/N smiled bashfully at Edmund’s tone but nodded.

“What? You’re cute, I couldn’t help myself. Plus, now you make me cute mixtapes.”

Edmund leans down and places his lips against hers. They were just as soft as she had imagined. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers quickly finding the hairs at the nape of his neck. He pulls away and leans his forehead against hers.

“Be my girlfriend, then?”

“You nerd,” Y/N took a small step forwards and pecked his lips again. “I would love to.”

#edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund x reader #edmund pevensie fanfic #edmund pevensie fanfiction #king edmund the just #king edmund #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #the chronicles of narnia fanfic #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #modern au #fluff #c.s. lewis #c. s. lewis #skandar keynes #narnia fanfic #narnia fanfiction

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mcwriting · 4 years ago

Text

The Marriage Project (4)

Hi everyone! Sorry this came late! I was soooo busy this week that I had to push this chapter back but I’m hoping to drop chapter 5 on Friday next week like normal. As listed in the warnings, this chapter has some heavier topics than the other 3 but the scene is relatively mild and not too descriptive.

Story Masterlist

Word Count: 2808

Warnings: Mentions of verbal s*exual harassment, mentions of fighting/injury, strong language, angst

% approximately the last weekend in September %

You sat at the back of the team bus on the way to the hotel, since the tournament was all day Saturday. You shared a row with Julia and was working on some calculus homework and listening to music while she talked to someone across the aisle.

When you finished, you took out your headphones and looked over at her. She was now playing on her phone.

“Hey, do you wanna bunk together tonight? I don’t feel like sharing a bed with Emily this week.” you whispered, making sure the freshman sitting a few rows up couldn’t hear you.

“Yeah sure. I was actually gonna ask you the same anyways.”

You were one of only two seniors on the team, so you and the other senior, Anna, were asked to split up and chaperone the girls whose parents weren’t coming to the tournament. Both of your rooms had three other people.

Once the team got checked into the hotel, you all went to dinner at a nearby chain restaurant where you, Julia, Anna, and a few other girls sat at a table together joking around.

After dinner, the team headed back to the hotel and were allowed to either hang in the lobby or your rooms, so long as you weren’t disruptive and stayed in pairs. You stayed in the lobby for a while but decided to go prepare for bed around 10.

Julia tagged along as your buddy, not saying much as you rode the elevator up.

After changing and brushing your teeth, you sat at one corner of the bed looking into a wall-mounted mirror as you combed your hair to pull it into a braid. Julia had been watching the TV when she piped up.

“Hey, y/n?”

“Yeah?” you didn’t look back at her.

“What’s going on between you and Tom?”

You paused mid-braid, then continued.

“What do you mean?” your brows furrowed as you finished off the braid, wrapping the end with a hair tie.

“It’s just… you guys have seemed super close lately, and Sam said you’re at their house pretty much every weekend now. I thought you guys hated each other or something.”

You turned your body to look at her.

“Uhhhh we definitely still hate each other. We’re just partnered up for this semester-long marriage project in home ec. It’s whatever.”

“Oh. Okay then. It just seemed like something else I guess.”

Something else?

“Wait, what are you trying to say? Do you think we’re, like, dating or something?”

“Well you guys go to almost every one of each other’s games. And Sam said their mom loves you so it just seemed like… I don’t know.”

“Whoever thinks we more than hate each other is wrong. Just the idea of him and I together grosses me out so much. Once this semester is over, he and I probably won’t speak to each other again until the day I’m chosen valedictorian over him.”

“Okay, well, I’ll let Sam kn-”

She was cut off by the sound of the door opening as the two freshman girls who were taking the other bed came in giggling.

Glad to finally be out of that conversation.

After a few more random conversations, you all decided to go to bed and rest up for the tournament early the next morning.

It’s when you rolled over onto your side to face the wall that thoughts of your conversation with Julia began racing. Did people really think something other than a fake marriage was going on with Tom?

Exhaustion got the best of you before you could dwell on it further.

You sat in calculus Monday morning listening to the announcements. Your name and a couple others were listed off from the winning sports. The team had won, and you’d gotten tournament MVP.

The class congratulated you, so you jokingly did a royal wave around the room, stopping to look at Tom.

“That’s how it’s done. You guys may have won too, but I think I beat you out this time.”

“Yeah, good job.”

What. Why was he congratulating you?

“Uhhh. You don’t have anything else to say? No insult, no witty clapback? Who are you and what have you done to the Tom Holland I know and hate?”

He shrugged.

“I just don’t have anything negative to say. I mean, you got MVP and the team won. That’s pretty impressive.”

Now you knew something was up. In all your years of knowing Tom, he’d never been this nice. Sure, he’d sometimes say “nice shot!” when you scored more than one goal in soccer but he usually was able to find a way to pick on you at the same time.

You were working on a new sewing project in home ec later, sharing what happened with Alexis.

“Maybe he’s just not feeling well or something? He probably just couldn’t think up something fast enough,” she suggested.

“You don’t get it, Lex. It was so not like him. After Thursday, and what Julia said Friday night, something weird is going on, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”

Wondering if anything was out of the ordinary with him now, you looked over to where he was, only to find him looking back at you.

Weird.

In senior art that afternoon, you worked on an acrylic beach landscape you’d been doing with a palette knife.

You were listening to music and intently focused when you felt a presence loom over you and noticed a hand resting on either side of you.

You ripped out an earbud and turned to see Tom leaning over your seated position, looking at your artwork.

“What the- Tom! What in the hell are you doing?” you pushed him off you and he stepped next to your chair, arms folded over his chest.

“Just looking to see how you were doing, princess. I think it needs a sailboat.”

“Okay first of all I’m not even done but like… why were you leaning over me like that? I was kinda in my zone there.”

He uncrossed his arms and pointed one had around the canvas.

“Well I was mostly coming over to say you had a little something right,” he poked a finger from his other hand onto your nose, leaving a dot of paint, “there.”

“Thomas Holland. If you don’t get the hell away from me and my artwork right this second I will literally beat you up in front of this entire class. You know it’s true too.” you threatened through grinding teeth.

“Are we having a problem over here?” your art teacher interjected, causing you to both look at her. You pointed at your nose.

“Mr. Holland here doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.”

“Tom. You know how I feel about messing around with art supplies. Now go sit down, you still have a lot to go on your own painting.”

He sighed and headed back to his seat.

“Y/n, why don’t you go wash that off real quick. I’ll keep an eye on your canvas for you.”

You got up, brushing past Tom. First, he’d been super nice this morning, and now he was putting paint on your nose like a little kid?

It was infuriating to think about.

Wednesday, it was like he was even worse.

He flipped between being the nicest guy ever to trying to humiliate you every chance he got.

The final straw was during your free period when you’d typically have volleyball practice (it was a game day). You’d walked by some of the football team who were practicing on the field and some players tried to catcall you, yelling disgusting sexist comments and whistling. Instead of sticking up for you, Tom just looked at you sheepishly as they laughed.

You just stuck up a middle finger and kept walking, as you were running errands for your volleyball coach and didn’t want to be too long.

After school, you stormed out of the school building and caught sight of him leaning against his car talking to a few of the guys from before as his brothers stood around nearby.

When you were about 20 feet away when you yelled out at him.

“Hey Tom! What the hell?”

His conversation paused and he turned to you. The other guys laughed and waved him bye as you approached.

“I’m sorry, but what?” he asked when you reached his car. You tossed your volleyball bag onto the asphalt.

“What is wrong with you? First you’re super nice to me, then I catch you staring at me in class and then the whole paint thing, and that was just Monday. Then today you flip from nice to asshole, and just sit idly by when your friends fucking harass me!?”

“I was just messing around like we always do! And come on, it was just a whistle and a couple jokes, y/n.”

“That’s the thing! It’s not just a whistle or a joke! Call it that when you read the countless stories of women who are attacked for simply ignoring a guy or trying to stand up for herself! I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO BEG YOU AND EVERY OTHER MAN FOR SOME SIMPLE RESPECT!” you were yelling and breathing hard. “I guess I thought that after the past few weeks we had come to some kind of an understanding, but apparently I was wrong. You’re still the biggest asshole I know.”

“Y/n, please. You know I would never do anything to actually harm you, right? I’ll talk to the guys and figure it out. I mean, what else do you want me to do?”

“Maybe we should get a ‘divorce’ on this stupid project. It’s obviously not working out,” you spat.

“I- okay.”

You were taken aback. Did he really just agree?

“Okay? That’s all you have to say? You really want to go through with it?”

“Well, if it’s what you feel is best, I’m not going to stop you from talking to Mrs. Flynn.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see what she wants us to do.” you said, much more calmly.

With that, you picked up your bag and walked off, wanting to cool down before your game.

“Damn, Tom. That’s rough,” Harry said once you were out of earshot.

“Yeah, dude. You should’ve stood up for her. That’s not cool,” Sam added.

Tom hung his head for a minute, not sure what to think, then straightened up, shaking it angrily.

“You’re right. She’s right. I need to find those guys.”

Things had cooled down for you by the time you’d eaten a snack and hung out with some of the team for a little bit. You didn’t tell anyone what had happened, but by the way Julia kept looking at you, you figured Sam had told her.

An hour before game time, you went to go put on your kneepads and volleyball shoes. As you passed through the gym, Julia hopped up from her seat next to her boyfriend and rushed up to you.

“Whatever Sam said, I’m over it now. I’m just going to channel it into the game” you told her before she could get a word out.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Sam said you seemed pretty shaken up.”

“Look, jules, I know you’re trying to help, but now isn’t the time. I just need to focus on one thing at a time, okay? Let’s just win this and then maybe later we can talk.”

You sped up past her to where the group was in a circle, already doing stretches. You felt bad for blowing her off, but you had other things to worry about.

Your team lost the first set for the first time all season. You just couldn’t get your head in the game. You had fumbled a few sets and sent your hand into the net while hitting not once, but twice. You’d even sent a serve straight back to the wall on the other side of the gym.

You were now sitting on the bench listening to your coach yell at you, taking it all in. You were looking at her directly when a figure coming through the door caught your eye. It was Tom.

You tried to pay attention to coach, but the second she turned her attention to someone else, you glanced at him sitting by his brother.

His lip was split and he caressed one hand in the other. His hair was also all over the place and one cheek swelled slightly.

Did he get into a fight?

Even though you were still mad, something inside you appreciated his presence. You also felt concerned, but obviously couldn’t do anything about it from the bench.

You instead decided to do what you knew best, which was win. The team came back in the end and did just that. A few people were congratulating you when you saw Tom and Sam leave the gym.

“Uh, sorry guys but I need to go do something. See y’all tomorrow though!”

You jogged into the hall, frantically looking both ways before seeing them.

“Wait! Tom!” you called, running to catch up with them. They stopped, Tom not making eye contact with you when he turned as Sam watched cautiously.

He looked worse up close.

Where his cheek had only seemed swollen before, now there was a blue and purple bruise beginning to form, surrounded by pink inflamed tissue. His bottom lip also was red and puffy around the split, and when you glanced at his hands you noticed the darker bruises on each knuckle.

“Tom…” you said softly, scanning him. “Are you okay?”

“What does it matter to you? We hate each other don’t we?”

Sam took that as his cue to go back to the gym, you assumed to find Julia.

You let out a sigh and looked away.

“I don’t ‘hate you’ hate you. Yeah I hate when you’re better than me at something or you’re acting like a douchebag, but I don’t, like, want you dead or anything. I mean, you know that, right?”

You searched his face for a sign that he was getting you. After a few seconds of him staring at the ground nervously tapping his foot, he replied.

“Well I don’t hate you either! Yeah, you can have an ego and it gets on my nerves, but I’ve always thought we had just a playful hate-love thing. Like… I don’t know... Doofensmirtz and Perry the Platypus.”

You let out a chuckle at that one.

“That… actually. Yeah. That pretty much sums it up. I never actually wanted to hurt you, and I’m sorry that I did but what you did today was so not cool, man. I thought we at least tried to look out for each other a little bit. That stuff hurts. A lot. Because being a woman means I don’t know when it might cost me more than just being the butt of a joke.”

“I realize that now, and I’m so sorry for trying to trivialize you. I didn’t really think about it in the moment because it’s never affected me. I might be in trouble tomorrow because of it, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“After you left, I was so mad at myself. I marched straight over to the guys, who were then trying to laugh about you coming to talk to me, and I just… swung right on Harrison. He’s the first guy that whistled.”

“Tom…”

“And then I may have gone after the other two while I was at it. They tried to fight back, which is why my face looks like this, and I just went nuts. They gave up after realizing I wasn’t gonna back down.”

You tried to hold back tears. You always knew in the back of your mind that Tom cared a little bit, but not like this. One slipped out onto your cheek.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you whispered, trying to keep a steady voice. He reached out and brushed his thumb over your tear.

“Yes I did. Who else was going to teach those dickheads, huh? Obviously no one else in their lives have cared to.”

“Well thank you. It means a lot… and I didn’t go talk to Mrs. Flynn after our little spat outside. I wouldn’t mind staying as your ‘bride,’ if you’ll have me.”

He looked at you skeptically for a few seconds then smiled.

“Yeah, alright,” he pulled his necklace from his shirt. “Who else would rub icy hot on my back and make pie with my mom?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me of the first one,” you laughed.

After a few seconds, you held out your arms.

“We good?”

He grinned, taking your offer for a hug and wrapping his own arms around you.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

A/N: Thanks for reading! Like I’ve mentioned in the past, this will not be the last of heavy topics and some future scenes will actually be more descriptive, but I will make it explicitly clear where those scene are so you can have discretion. Love you all so much!

Tag List: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson

#The Marriage Project #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #Harry Holland #sam holland #tom holland x y/n #tom holland au

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astraeagreengrass · 4 years ago

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French Press

Sam Wilson has a crush on two things: good coffee and you

Pairing: EMT!Sam Wilson x Nurse!Reader

Word Count:1.981

Warnings: bad words, probably bad descriptions of medical professions and f l u f f

A/N: This is my submission to @sourpatchkidsandacokecan @littledarlinhavefaithinme "Little Darlin's Mystery AU Challenge". Thank you Clea for hosting this challenge! My prompt was EMT/paramedic featuring Sam Wilson. Many thanks to the only person lovelier than Captain America - Dani @xbuchananbarnes who kindly kept up with me rambling on and on about this for weeks. The banner picture was found here. I hope you like it ♡

Sam Wilson was having a really bad day.

He had slept in, having missed his alarm by well over forty minutes, and when his - goddamned, motherfucking, idiotic - roommate Bucky started banging on the door warning that they were going to be late, Sam rose in a flash, tripping on the strewn covers and stubbing his left pinky toe on the foot of the bed. Howling in pain, he half-entered, half-fell in the shower, scrubbing himself as fast as he could while muttering curses under the cold water.

The temperature was just warming up when he got out, only to realize he forgot to get a towel from the clean laundry basket. Trusting that drying himself off with a face towel was less humiliating than asking Bucky for a regular one - even if it meant going over his legs five times - Sam lost even more precious minutes, having to forgo his beloved french-pressed coffee in order to get to the hospital on time. Barnes could be a dick sometimes, but he was the best ambulance driver in the city, and, right now, Sam’s only hope.

Only they were not on the ambulance yet, and New York City's traffic didn't make way for Bucky's old Camaro - "It's vintage!" - the way it did for first responders. So when the tires screeched in front of Brooklyn General and the two friends rushed to the ER, they were greeted by the displeased face of their supervisor, Maria Rambeau.

"Please come in" she said in mock welcome. "I'm sure emergencies can wait for the princesses to get their beauty sleep."

And because anything in life that can go wrong will go wrong, you happened to pass by precisely as Sam was spilling out apology after apology. From the corner of his eye, he saw you stifling a laugh as you ducked behing Maria to get to the women’s rest room.

That was Monday.

Late evening blended into early morning and Sam found himself in the hospital cafeteria, upper body slumped on a chair and legs stretched in another. He always found it funny how healthcare professionals were usually the ones with the most unhealthy habits - like the irregular sleeping habits and the copious amount of bad coffee. Still, over and over again he took refuge on beige walls of the cafeteria, trying to find a modicum of rest between calls.

So far, the night had brought in an amateur archer with a cracked rib and a teenager with a allergic reaction to spiders. All in all, not a bad 24-hour shift.

Sunlight was just beginning to filter through the shutters when you walked in with Carol Danvers, another nurse. Your scrubs were rumpled and there was a dot of smudged mascara under your eyes. A thin line streamed your cheek from where the surgical mask sat and he was sure your hands were dry and scratchy from the latex gloves just like his were. Even so, to Sam, you were as beautiful as you did when you arrived yesterday morning, if only for the twinkled of mischief he could still catch in your gaze.

Next to him, Bucky snickered.

“You’re so whipped.”

That was Tuesday.

The first time you saw each other outside the hospital, it was a coincidence.

Sam turned left at the coffee aisle and there you were - almost unrecognizable in legging pants and a cap, bopping to a song he couldn’t hear on your earphones. You looked worlds away from the capable nurse he knew you were, staring absentmindedly at the rows of grains, weighing different options on each hand.

He couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the familiar white packaging on your right palm or the way the black pants hugged your calves and thighs in a soft curve your scrubs could never achieve. Somehow, finding you in the domestic setting of the local grocery store brought the words out of Sam’s lips, past lungs and vocal cords, toppling the insecurity that lived at the tip of his tongue.

“The Colombian one is great,” he blurted out.

Your removed an earbud, then the other. Your confused frown morphed into the most beautiful stretch of lips when you recognized the tall man at the end of the aisle.

“Hey,” you beamed. “I know you.”

I know you.

“From the hospital,” you quickly explained yourself, not knowing you didn’t have to. “You're Sam, right?”

On the inside, he was hyperventilating.

Oh my God, she knows me.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “Sam Wilson.”

Two steps forward and he was close enough to extend his arm. The handshake was brief and polite, but thrilling. Sam sensed the gentle caress of your palm on every nerve ending of his body. He was wrong yesterday: your hands were so soft it felt as though you'd never once wore latex gloves.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you said and damn it sounded so much better coming from your mouth rather than someone else’s. “Since you’re a friend, do you think you can help me understand this coffee?”

Friend. Friend. Cool. Helping a friend at the grocery store. He could do that. Friend. Get it together, Wilson.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Well, I use a French Press, so if that’s your thing I’d suggest a medium or dark roast. That one is one of my favorites,” he pointed to the small white bag you were still holding in the cradle of your elbow.

“Oh wow, you’re a pro,” you laughed. “I don’t think I can operate anything more complicated than a coffee bag.”

Sam raised his eyebrows.

“A coffee bag? Really? That’s like a crime against coffee!”

You giggled, carefree, melodious and slightly embarrassed, like the first warm breeze after a long winter, still shy and oblivious to her greatness.

“In my defense, I’ve been trying to get better,” you claimed. “I don’t think I can survive much longer with the cafeteria coffee as my standard.”

“You’re right about that,” Sam said. Then, in a push of his good luck, he added. “Hey, if you want you can borrow my book on coffee recipes. When’s your next shift?”

“Tomorrow morning,” you replied. “And thank you! Are you sure you won’t need your book?”

“Not at all!” he shook his head. “Besides, it would a crime to let you keep using those coffee bags.”

And there it was again, the laugh. He could keep hearing it forever.

There was a pause, then. That awkward silence in the middle of a sentence when someone wishes they could say more but they don't know how to. It's child's play all over again, from the itch at the tip of the fingers to the flutter in the stomach. In a few moments of quiet, everything is a lot - emotions are too intense, too noisy and too much, toppling over careful overthought expectations of an infatuated heart.

He saves the memory of your smile, willing it to be good fortune, read from coffee grounds sitting on a an empty cup.

“Ok, then. I’ll see you tomorrow, Sam.”

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

That was Wednesday.

He found you at the nurses’ station.

Standard green scrubs, hair out of your face, glasses on the bridge of your nose. There was a pink stain on your middle finger from the neon pen you used to highlight patient’s prontuary.

He’d never seen you in glasses before and something about them made his heart beat faster.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, fingers drumming the countertop in a nervous tick disguised as smooth greeting.

“Oh. Hey, Sam, ” you offered. Next to you, Carol Danvers looked like the cat that ate the canary. “How are you?”

“Good, good,” he nodded. “What about you? Committing any coffee sins recently?”

“I’ll let you know my coffee bags are safe and healthy, thank you very much,” you grinned and laughter bubbled from him in easy breaths of adoration.

“Here,” Sam slid a small rectangular to you. “The recipe book I promised you.”

You held it to your chest like a precious gift and he crumbled, tiny pieces of man falling apart in earth-shattering joy.

“Thank you so much,” you said. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Please,” Sam whispered, either to you or to himself, he wasn’t sure. “Please do.”

That was Thursday.

It took Bucky a lot of convincing, but he eventually let Sam take the Camaro.

"Never call her old again, ya hear me?" he complained. "Not when she's helping you get your girl."

Sam was going to call it something a lot worse if he didn’t manage to find a place to park soon.

On it’s defense, it was Friday night on Fulton Street. Chances of finding a parking space were little to none, even if you were a man with a crush and a nice car. So when he finally reaches you, looking pretty in a dress under the artificial light of a café, he’s just a little breathless from racing down three blocks.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed and you beamed, brighter than the signboard, or his headlights or the first twinkling star shining through the foggy city sky.

“Hey,” you said. “I thought you’d bailed on me.”

“Never,” he breathed out. “I just… Idrovemybestfriendscartoimpressyoubuttherewasnoparkingspace.”

“What?”

“I wanted to impress you, so I borrowed my friend’s car,” he admitted. “Only there was no parking space, so I had to go around the block a few times.”

Relief flooded from you and your shoulders visibly relaxed - but not enough.

The text came ungodly early, in an hour that most people would consider impolite, but not you and definitely not him. In your line of work, odd hours were just regular hours.

Hey Sam, it’s Y/N. Y/N L/N. I hope you don’t mind, but I got your number from an EMT named Steve. He said he’s your friend. Anyway, there’s this café in Bed-Stuy that’s doing a “French Press Festival”. I don’t know what that means but I thought maybe you’d like to come. With me. Like friends, of course. To honor good coffee.

He said yes of course. Perhaps more than once.

“I have something to confess, too,” you said. “I thought you’d found out about it and that’s why you didn’t show.”

Sam froze.

“I’m not a coffee newbie,” you admitted. “I actually know a lot about it. But when we met at the supermarket you seemed so enthusiastic… And honestly, I’d tried to find so many excuses to talk to you at the hospital but I was embarrassed - you make me nervous!”

And nervous you were, fingers twisting each other in a painful, agitated grip.

“I didn’t want to ruin the first good opportunity I got by saying that I knew the Colombian coffee was awesome, and yes, coffee bags should be banned from the face of the planet.”

There are moments that define a boy's heart. Shape it like more than muscle and blood, with something akin to manhood. Sam Wilson was grown - long limbs, tall frame and brave heart - but something in your presence screamed schoolyard crush and teenage fever at him. Like a toddler learning to walk or a boy tasting love for the first time. Like an adult discovering that some things feel better when they speed through older veins.

Sam’s smile was an earthquake - shattering the ground and dismantling structures in its wake. It rattled the five feet keeping you apart, pushing your bodies forward finally.

“I must say I was a little disappointed when you mentioned coffee bags,” he stated. Then he opened the café door and mentioned you forward. “But not as disappointed as I’ll be if say you’ll prefer Chemex over French Presses.”

You grinned and maybe Sam’s fortune was read before the coffee was poured.

“I guess you’re in luck, Mr. Wilson.”

That was Friday.

That was the beginning.

#ldamc #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x female reader #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x you #corneliabarnes #my writing

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korra-the-red-lion · 3 years ago

Text

Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 3: Rookie Hazing?

(Lyn)

My breathing fell into my familiar breathing pattern as I jogged through the town. The early morning sun was peeking through the clouds, trying to be seen. My music was blasting through my earbuds as I turned to go through the walking trail this morning.

Today was the first day of actual classes and practices. Me and a few of the others already have been to the pool a bunch this week, but this is when shit got real. After the disappointing loss to Turner University at last year’s AUS, Coach Jacob and team really wanted to get the title this year. It was one thing to lose, it was another thing all together to lose by 1 fucking point. Ugh, even just thinking about it pissed me off. Turner is a good school, don’t get me wrong. But man, we worked our assess off last year.

I passed by an older couple going out for their usual morning walk. I waved to them as I always do, earning a smile in return. I liked the coziness of this small town. Being able to see the same people every morning doing their routine as I did was relaxing and brought a sense of calm to my otherwise chaotic life.

I sprinted the final couple of kilometers home, slowing down as I approached the track around the football field. Loryn, Maddie, and Andrew where already there, chatting as they stretched for their early morning workout.

Loryn smiled when she saw me coming and tossed me my water bottle. I pulled out my music and took a huge swig from it. “Thanks, I really needed that,” I said. I lifted the end of my shirt and wiped the sweat and water off my face.

“No problem-o,” she responded. “How was your run?”

“Same as usual,” I said as I take another drink.

Andrew walked over and gave me a huge hug. “Ready for the season, Lyn?”

I nodded into his shoulder, holding onto his shirt. Andrew was the captain of the Men’s team, and he was like an older brother to me. This was his last year on the team, and I really wanted to win the championship for him and the other 4th years. They put so much into this program, and just one win would be an awesome reward for them.

“Please don’t cry, or I might start too,” he mumbled.

“Not crying,” I pulled away, grinning at him. “I’m just thinking of how lame the team’s gonna be once you finally retire from it. Are they gonna make Will the captain next year, because like, yeesh.”

This earned a laugh from Andrew. “Well, I frigging hope not. Y’all better vote for Oliver, or Thom. If Will gets the captain position next year, you’re all doomed.”

“Fuck me with a rusty screw if Will gets it,” said Maddie bitterly. “The only thing bigger than his ego is his Hummer. I swear, I will never get over his parents airlifting that thing across the fucking country.”

It’s not like we hated Will or anything, he just was a huge pain in the ass. Both his parents are doctors, and he makes a point of letting you know how much money he has. During his first year here, apparently, his parents had his Hummer helicoptered across the country so he could have it here. Not sure why he didn’t drive the damned thing instead, but the rich do very extreme and extravagant things to prove their wealth. Maddie is a 3rd year like Will, so she’s been putting up with his Will-ness longer than Loryn or I.

We did our usual morning workout routine, just to get used to the rhythm again. Medicine ball tosses to each other with an added squat. After that, 2 sets of 20 jackknifes, 2 sets of 25 crunches, and 2 sets of 1 minute plank. We did our wheelbarrow run across the football field, giggling like fools as we did. Andrew and Maddie beat me and Loryn by a fingertip. Loryn jokingly apologized for being too short, a running joke on the team.

After that, we headed to food hall. Loryn liked to make fun of me for calling it that, since it was technically called meal hall, but that’s where I get all my food, not just meals. Hence, food hall. Still, she immediately started teasing me as we got near it.

The hall was abuzz with all the new frosh and returning students talking about their classes. It was nice to see this place so lively after being essentially dead for the week. I could already hear people talking about going to First Class Bash, the big first party of the year. I never really went to those often, parties that is, since the team had a drinking ban in place as soon as the season started. Maybe if some of the guys on the team wanted to go I would, but I was just as happy to stay in with the goofballs and have our own get together.

Oh shit, speaking of. The rookie party was this weekend, actually. It almost slipped my mind. Today was their official first day. It may sound weird, but Coach Jacob liked having them come for their own practice to get used to each other and the facilities first. That way, if they don’t feel like sticking around, there’s none of that awkward shame of seeing your ex-teammates on campus. Not that anyone actually gave a shit.

I sat down next to Matt and Kerry, two members of the team. They were nearly identical twins, but with different body builds since they swam different strokes. Matt was bulkier in his shoulders and trunk cuz he swam butterfly like I did, while Kerry was leaner but a bit bowlegged from swimming breaststroke for so many years. Kerry was letting her hair grow out after shaving it last year, and it was tied up in this stupidly adorable tiny ponytail, while Matt had shaved his hair into practical buzzcut. Kerry leaned over once I was settled and pointed.

“Did you see?”

“Did I see what?” I asked as I shoved the whole fried egg into my mouth.

“Derek is sitting with Poppy.”

I rolled my eyes. Derek Freeman was one of my exes from last year. Lyn from first year got a little crazy when it came to dating, and I ended up going through 6 different people before finally calling it quits. Derek was one of them, but he was by far the worse. He got super possessive and couldn’t understand why I dumped his creepy ass. He always knew my schedule and followed me everywhere. He would wait for me outside the pool and walk back to my res with me, which would have been super sweet if he didn’t ask to come inside every single time. Even after we broke up, he still followed me places. Eventually he got the message once I started dating Willa Hoffman, but man was he annoying.

Then there was Poppy. There was nothing wrong with her, per se. We just were partners on a project last year and she nearly cost me getting an A+ in Intro to Sociology, much to my annoyance. I cared a lot, maybe a little bit too much, about my grades. So, yeah, there’s nothing that really pisses me off more when you get stuck with a shit partner for a project.

“Honestly, Ker, I don’t care,” I said. “Hell, they deserve each other IMO.”

Kerry shrugged as she got back into her seat properly, finally letting Matt get back to eating. We ate in comfortable silence before Matt spoke up.

“Gunner is on probation.”

I dropped my fork in confusion. Even Kerry looked confused. “What do you mean, Matt?” I asked, leaning against the table as I did, locking eyes with him.

He sighed and ran a hand over his head. “Okay, don’t tell anyone because I’m not supposed to know, but Gunner was caught doing drugs this summer. Like, coke. Anyway, Jacob heard about it and helped him through rehab and stuff, but the dean put him on probation until his grades and attitude prove that he actually got clean.”

“Shiiiiiiit,” I pushed my tray away. Leo Gunner was the best sprinter on the team, leading the Men’s team to having great scores in the relay last year. If he wasn’t allowed to swim this season, we might be in serious trouble. There was no one as fast as him. The next best would be Parker, and even then, he wasn’t near Gunner’s level.

“Oh, that’s awful,” said Kerry, putting her hand over her mouth.

Matt nodded. “Yeah, it’s shit for sure. I talked to him this morning and apparently, he’s allowed to practice, but he might not be allowed to sign up for the meets. I think Jacob might bring it up to Andrew and Emma today, but he might not let the rest of the team know just yet.”

The information sat heavy in my stomach. I walked all the way to my class with my mind racing, wondering if there was any way we could fight this decision. All conclusions came to a resounding no. The university was pretty strict about athletes using illegal substances. They only thing that probably saved his ass was that it happened this summer.

I took my usual spot near the front, waiting for the rest of the students to fill in. This was a second-year history course, and I really wanted to be psyched for it, considering history was my favourite subject, but it was hard when I was worrying about things out of my control.

“Mind if I sit?”

I looked over and nearly groaned when I saw it was Will. I nodded, but he was already taking the seat anyway. I hated sitting next to Will, he just sat on Instagram the whole time, or TikTok. Fuck my life right now.

He reached over and tugged on my ear. “Why the long face, Lyn?”

I batted his hand away. He knew I was self-conscious of how big my ears were, and he liked to pick at that at any opportunity. “No long face here, Will.” I forced a grin onto my face before turning my attention back to my desk.

“Whatever you say.”

Ugh, def getting a new seat on Thursday. I can’t deal sitting next to him and dealing with his antics at practice too. There was only so much abuse one gal could take for the day.

XXX

Thank God it was Friday!

I managed my schedule perfectly, so I had no classes on Friday. It made the other days more miserable for sure, but having a three-day weekend every week? Exactly what I needed to stay on top of things this year. Just practice in the afternoon, and I was free to enjoy myself. The rookie party was tomorrow, and they were a good batch. Loryn’s younger sister Robin joined the team this year, which was super exciting for her.

I got to enjoy breakfast without having to rush it, plus no homework was assigned this week. Today was a nice one, and I was looking forward to just being able to chill and enjoy it. As I left, I happened to notice that Ally was leaving the food hall. Grinning, I raced over to where she was.

“Hey, Ally!” I fell into step beside her.

“Lyn!” Ally looked up at me, a smile breaking out. She had her hair in this half up pinned style, it looked really good on her. Also, she was wearing different glasses today. She usually wore some rectangle ones, but these ones were like a half moon shape.

“How’s your first week, frosh?” I asked.

“Well, after the disaster that was the bookstore incident…” she looked down, thinking about something before shaking her head. “It’s been lovely. I think once I get into a nice routine, I won’t feel as anxious.”

I was curious about the whole bookstore thing, but I respected that she clearly wasn’t ready to talk about it openly with me. Fair enough, we only just met last week, and I barely have seen her since.

“Hey, well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself so far! Is it cool if I walk with you until your next class? I’m free.”

“Oh,” she smiled shyly at me, “that would be really nice, actually.”

I smiled back. We chatted about her classes all the way to Bennet, where her class was. I leaned against the wall as she finished explaining something about her drama class. That was a class I took in first year, but it sounds like she has Professor Kinkly, whereas I had Professor Statton. Kinkly was more by the book, Statton was know as the campus kook. I had a feeling Ally was gonna like Kinkly more.

“I guess I should head in, huh?”

“I guess you should. But hey,” I said, “we should totally hang this weekend, you know? Whatcha doing tomorrow?”

Ally looked contemplative before shaking her head. “Nothing, I think.”

“Perfect! Let’s grab a bite to eat, and you can finish telling me all about your week.”

“O-okay, sounds great!”

Ally wished me a goodbye and dashed inside, as to not be late for class. I watched her go before snorting under my breath. I liked her, she was smart and funny. It would be nice to have someone as a friend outside the team. Guess it was just my lucky day when she approached that table I forced Loryn to help me set up.

Feeling great, I practically skipped all the way back to my res.

XXX

The smell of chlorine was something that was never going to get old. It calmed me when nothing else could. I know that sounds a little dramatic, but the pool is my second home. Didn’t matter how I felt at home or school or whatever, I could come to a pool and swim those thoughts and troubles away.

We finished with our pre-practice routines, and I jumped into the pool, shivering a little as the cold water enveloped my body. Right away everything felt amazing. Reach, pull, reach, pull. The easy lazy rhythm of the warmup let my thoughts drift away. It was nearing the end of the warmup when I caught Andrew’s eye underwater during my turn, and we ended up racing our last 25 meters. He beat me and we high fived as I hung onto the lane rope.

Coach Jacob laughed as the others finished their warmups. He was a retired swimmer himself and did things to keep himself in shape. He had one of those kind faces that really made you feel welcomed. Sure, he could be a hard ass, but he just really wanted win, like we all did.

He read practice off the board for us, and we did as was instructed. In in a blink of an eye, practice was over, and we were all hauling our asses out of the pool. Practice wasn’t too hard today, but since it’s been a while since any of us had structure like that, we all felt the ache of the week catching up with us finally.

“Okay, gather ‘round!” Coach Jacob called out. We all headed towards the bench and took seats. Loryn sat next to me and we cuddled, trying to not freeze as we listened to what he had to say.

“So, this is the last year for some of us,” he indicated the 4th years with a nod, “and a new beginning for others,” a nod to the 1st years. “However, the goal is the same. We wanna be number one at AUS’s this year. We wanna send people to CIS’s this year. We wanna kick Turner’s stupid butt all over the pool deck. We start morning practice next week, 5:30 sharp, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Gym time is 6:00 on Tuesday and Thursday. We have our usual afternoon practice at 4:30 every day. If you can’t make practice, the reason better be fucking good. Rookies, never be afraid to ask questions. These guys are your family while you’re here, and like family, sometimes we don’t always get along. But try your best to stay pleasant with the others. Lastly, welcome to the Mount Seamus Wolves!” he finished with a huge grin. We clapped and headed into the locker rooms, where a hot shower was calling my name.

“Man, I am looking forward to the weekend!” Loryn said with a huge stretch as we grabbed our shampoo and conditioner.

“Me too,” I said with a grin. “I already made plans.”

“Oh my God, shut up! Who with?”

“That cute frosh from last week.”

Loryn scrunched up her face in thought. “Gabriel or the brunette you showed around?”

I laughed, hitting her playfully with my towel. “Dude, you’re the only one who thinks Gabe is cute, you know?”

“Not true! I know Jackie does too!”

“Damn right I do!” Jackie said, walking by us with a laugh.

We all laughed as we turned the water on. It felt great to take a hot shower after practice. We were gossiping about people on campus when I noticed something strange.

“Emma, are you okay?”

Emma, the captain for the Women’s team, looked over. “Huh, why you ask?”

I blinked. “Because you’re covered in…blood?”

She looked up and shrieked. Sure enough, something red and gooey was coming from the shower head. Actually, it was coming from all the showers! We all screamed and ran out, not even bothering to turn them off.

“What the actual fuck?” Emma was shaking with either anger or fear, wasn’t sure which it was. “Did someone think it would be funny to prank the rookies or something?” She whipped around to glare at all of us.

When no one fessed up, she growled in annoyance. “Okay, maybe one of the guys thought it would funny? Whoever did this, it’s seriously fucked up. Getting sprayed with fake blood is not how I wanted to end my Friday night!”

“Uh, not to be that person, Emma,” I said hesitantly, “but if it was fake blood…wouldn’t it have stopped by now?” I pointed over to the running showers, where a steady stream of red was still coming out.

Emma’s face paled. She looked at her hands, where the blood was and sniffed it. “Oh my God…it smells like copper.”

That’s when Jackie threw up all over the floor and Kerry burst into tears.

XXX

I was in my room, curled up under all the blankets I could possibly be curled under. We texted the boys after, to see if something similar happened to them. When Andrew and Matt both responded no, we got even more freaked out. We ended up calling campus security for them to see if there was something they could do about it. They said they would look into and escorted us back to our residences. I took such a scalding hot shower that I was still pink from it, but I still didn’t feel clean.

The group chat was blowing up with questions. The poor rookies were understandably upset. They thought someone was trying to haze them, but that wasn’t the case at all. Hazing wasn’t something we did anymore. They didn’t do it in my first year, and Emma said that her class was the last one that got hazed.

I didn’t have the energy to be dealing with this, so I muted the chat for the time being. Nura was sitting on her bed, her eyes on her computer screen but I could see her looking at me from time to time. I mean, I would be too. If Nura came back and told me that she just ended up taking a blood shower, I would be fucking concerned too.

I rolled over and tugged at my ear. It was habit of mine when I was anxious about something, and I was definitely anxious about this. If it turned out to be a stupid prank from one of the other teams, that would be one thing. But if it wasn’t…then what did it mean?

I had this crazy thought, pulling my phone up to my face. I wanted to see if it happened any time else. I did a quick Google search, and found out that this wasn’t the first time that something like this happened at this school. It was in 1968, and in 1995, and again in 2007. Okay, that was interesting.

Okay, so unless someone was dumping bodies into a water reservoir that only affected the women’s locker room, something freaky was going on. I’m not that big into that spiritual mumbo jumbo, but I’m not going to deny that this was more than a coincidence. However, it was history, something I specialized in. If I could trace back and see if there were any more connections, maybe I can establish a pattern.

That was a problem for Lyn of tomorrow, however. I was thoroughly exhausted after tonight’s events. I bookmarked the page on my phone, just so I wouldn’t forget. I was going to need my laptop for this.

I just hoped I could find something that can explain what the hell happened.

#unnatural affairs #ua #paranormal #lyn hart #ally holland #mystery #gore mention #unreliable narrator #murder mysteries #ghosts #haunting #original story #original fiction #romance #sports #writing

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straykats · 5 years ago

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Heya! Can I please request a barista!Chan AU where the reader is a regular at the café he works at and they're always flirting with each other but never actually had a chance to have a real conversation, anyways one night she comes really late and they finally have a chance to talk and they have a really long deep conversation until like, midnight, then Chan takes her home and asks her on a date..? I'm sorry it's so long! 💗

i’m sorry the wait has been so long!!

----------

“Back again, are we?”

You roll your eyes as you step up to the counter. “You say that like i haven’t been coming here every day for the past two months.”

Chan lets out a chuckle, wiping his hands on the apron around his waist as he leans his hip against the counter.

“Are you having the usual? Or are we going to…” Chan wiggles his eyebrows. “...spice it up?”

“Just the usual, thank you," you reply with a laugh.

Nodding, Chan spins away to make your order. The Wednesday afternoon brought with it very few customers. There was a group of students in the corner, laptops open in front of them, and a mother with her toddler on the other side. The cafe wasn’t big, so there were few chairs, but it was made to feel cozy and welcoming with the natural sunlight and hanging plants.

You could hear Chan humming along to the song being played. His head was also nodding to the beat, his hands moving as if from muscle memory.

“Who chooses the music, Chan?”

“Hmm? Oh, this is my playlist!” He beams at you before returning to your coffee. “Do you like it?”

You nod. “Maybe you can share some favourites with me sometime.”

His ears go the lightest shade of pink and he turns back with your order in his hand. A small smile plays on his lips, one that he seemed to be attempting to contain. “I mean, I’d love to. Only if you share some of yours, too?”

You head cocks questioningly. “You make it sound like a date, Chan.”

He can only laugh as returns to the counter, picking up a marker. The tip of his ears poked out from under his hair, and you were shocked to see how red they were. Sure, the two of you joked around whenever you came, and sure, the idea of a date had probably passed both your minds more than once (or, you’re hoping it’s passed Chan’s a couple of times) but actually saying it out loud was new.

The pen rests on his chin as he thinks, before he scribble something on the cup. The tip of your finger brushes his as you take the drink from him, and you’re both smiling at eachother stupidly.

The doorbell rings, snapping you both out of your reverie.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

You nod, shifting your weight between both feet. You didn’t want to go, of course, but that’s how your relationship with Chan was. You come at 4pm and for a few minutes, you’re talking and joking around (aka flirting) while he makes your order, and then you leave. That’s just how things were.

So you wave goodbye as the new customer walks up behind you, and turn to exit the cafe.

Once you’re out, you hold your cup up to read what Chan had written, for he never wrote your name anymore. It was something that he had started doing after you made a passing comment about baristas writing names wrong on coffee cups.

Chan had written some funny things, some charming things, and some strange things. Your favourite so far had been “for the the highlight of my day.”

Your heart flutters at the black ink.

For the girl whose number I’m yet to ask for.

Thursday had never seemed so boring to Chan. He had waited all day for 4pm, and even then, his day had not brightened. You had not appeared in the doorway, bag on your shoulder and glowing smile on your face as you normally did.

Chan was a little worried, in all honesty. You normally told him if you wouldn't be coming the next day, and you hadn’t said anything yesterday but it was almost closing time now and you hadn't yet appeared. It wasn't his place to be worried, he knew. Afterall, when it really came down to it, you were just a customer (although maybe you were his favourite). You weren't required to tell him every time you weren't coming.

There were fifteen minutes left, and no one had come for the last half hour, so Chan decided to start cleaning up. He started with the chairs, stacking them all upside down onto the table, and then moved to the windows, shutting all the curtains. He was at the door, just about to flip the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ when a face popped into view, and you graced him with the same smile he had seen every day for the last few months.

“One last customer?” You scrunch your face up in a plead, and Chan grins, opening the door.

“The saying ‘save the best for last’ seems awfully appropriate, right now.” He brings an arm out and bows, gesturing you inside. You break into giggles at his actions. “You know, I waited all day for you and I was starting to think you wouldn’t come.”

“Habits are hard to break, Chan,” you come up to the counter and bend down to lean your elbows on it. “If you don’t mind, I’ll have the usual.”

“‘If you don’t mind.’” He uses a mocking tone, his lips quirking. “Your drink is the one i look forward to making the most every day, y/n.”

Your cheeks heat up. “You flatter me, Chan.”

He lets out a laugh, glancing over his shoulder at you. “I’m serious, you know!”

You take down two chairs, placing them around a table in the middle of the cafe. “Hey, make yourself a drink too. Let’s talk! Unless you’re going to kick me out…?”

Chan moves to sit opposite you, sliding your drink across the table. “Oh, I don’t drink coffee.”

Your jaw drops. “You what? Chan, you’re a-”

“I know, I know,” he laughs. “I’m a barista, i work with coffee, coffee is pretty much my life.”

“Hey, have you heard of Albert Camus?” You shake your head. “Well, tell me if I bore you, but he came up this… concept called ‘absurdism’.”

Chan tells you of one of Camus’ essays that he had been reading, and you’re in awe at Chan’s marvel at the idea of absurdism and existentialism. It was fascinating to hear him talk about it, and also calming. His voice was soft but expressive, and you found yourself growing drowsy.

The sky outside had considerably darkened, and it was late by the time Chan noticed you trying to keep your eyes open.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “You should probably get going, now. It’s almost- Oh my god, It’s almost midnight!”

You laugh, standing up and stacking your chair. You hadn’t realised how much time had passed. Picking up your drink (which was almost cold, now, but it was yet to be half drunken) you make your way to the door.

“I’ll come by again tomorrow-”

“Y/n! Let me walk you home.” You blink a few times. “I can share my playlist with you…?”

You smile at the offer. “That sounds great.”

After locking up, Chan hands you an earbud. You walk the few minutes home (for you didn’t live too far) with Chan by your side and a cup of coffee in your hand.

You don’t bring it up, but you notice the way he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his head flicking to the side the slightest bit. The night is cool and tranquil, and it’s so new to be walking with Chan, no counter between the two of you.

Eventually, you stop in front of your house.

“Thanks for walking me home, Chan,” you say as you hand him back his earbud.

For the first time since leaving the cafe, you look into his face. He has a small, lopsided smile on his lips, and you notice that he stands relaxed - not the way he stands behind the counter, comfortable and at home, but he’s relaxed. He’s comfortable, but he’s nervous. Why would he be nervous?

“Did you like my music?”

You let out a breath of laughter. “Is this a bad time to tell you that I only come every day for the music?” you tease, and for a second, you think he believes you.

“Did you read your cup yesterday?”

For the girl whose number i’m yet to ask for.

You nod your head, trying not to make it obvious that you were trying to keep your breathing calm and even.

“So, how about it? Can I have your number?”

Your eyes flick down, and you pretend to look for a pen in your bag. You can’t keep eye contact with him right now. It was so… weird to not be joking around and flirting. This was real. This was all real.

“Gosh, and here I was, thinking you were getting tired of seeing me nearly every day.”

You hear him laugh, and you gesture for his hand. He gives it to you, and they’re warm and soft and there’s a healing burn, but you don’t comment on it. You put pen to skin, writing your number across the back of his hand.

He glances down at his hand, a satisfied smile on his face. “So. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course. Well… I’d better get inside. Thanks for walking me.”

It’s silent for a few seconds, Chan opening and closing his mouth as if the words just won’t come to him.

“Look, I’d- I’d hug you, but i probably smell like coffee and sandwiches, so-”

With a laugh, you pull him into a hug. “Lucky for you, I love coffee.”

And he does smell like coffee - your favourite coffee.

You pull apart, both feeling like highschoolers new to love. He lets you go and watches as you go in.

Once inside, you lock your doors before peering out the window. Chan’s still there, phone illuminating his face. You hear your own phone ping, and there’s a message from an unknown number.

Unknown number: check your cup

You look for your cup, finding it on the table by the door, and read the words Chan had scribbled for today.

For the girl who I’ve been dying to ask out on a date.

#bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bang chan imagines #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines

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chilling-seavey · 4 years ago

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based on ur post about the songs from the album and when they would have been written in ABM- ABM Daniel writing a song for Flora and she hears it for the first time?

By the time Daniel graduated with his bachelor’s degree in music production; he had an album of ten original songs under his belt. His first year was learning the basics but by the time the novel of ABM began, his classes started assigning projects in writing and producing their own songs. We all know that Daniel is incredibly creative and especially so when it comes to his music and this universe is no different, but he was also incredibly protective about his work. He showed Florence snippets of what he had been working on but never full songs because he didn’t want to admit that all his songs were about her.

His inspiration was directly stemmed from her; for every single one of his projects.

Even when Florence and Daniel started dating, he kept his previous songs locked away on his computer in near embarrassment with how lovesick and emotional they all were. They were pieces of his fragile soul from the past two or three years and he was simply a little nervous of opening that back up again.

By his final week of university, Daniel received a CD that was burned with all of his projects in order on it to hear his progression and his professor congratulated him on being one of the top students he had ever seen or taught. Daniel thanked him, went home, and hid the album in the very back of his sock drawer.

Here is the link to ABM Daniel’s University Album.

Thursday, June 16, 2022

It had been in there barely two months when Florence found it. She was doing laundry and putting the clean folded clothes in the drawers when her hand grazed something at the bottom of Daniel’s sock drawer. Curiosity got the better of her and she pushed the folded socks out of the way to reveal a CD case, the cover staring back up at her with one of Daniel’s first year headshots and the title in white across the black and white image; Firenze. ‘Florence’ in Italian.

She set the laundry basket on the floor and picked up the CD from the bottom of the drawer. She flipped it over and skimmed the track list printed on the back. Ten short titled tracks in a row down the middle. Florence figured she shouldn’t go snooping through her fiancé’s things but it wasn’t a gift since her birthday already passed and they never gave each other Christmas gifts so she carried it back out to the bedroom.

Daniel was watching the girls in the living room while Florence was doing laundry so she had a moment of privacy to close the bedroom door and bring out her laptop. She slid the CD into the disk drive and put in her earbuds to listen to the mysterious album that had been hidden from her for nearly four years. The front cover slid out like a real professional album and she flipped it open as the songs loaded into iTunes.

The first song was titled Just to See You Smile. Written and Produced by Daniel Seavey, 1st year Music Production student, March 2019.

Florence smiled at the gentle piano that led the introduction to the song and then Daniel’s youthful voice that came in next. She couldn’t believe he never showed her this song; probably too nervous since it was his first, but it was sweet and it made her smile.

The second song was titled Hard. Written and Produced by Daniel Seavey, 2nd year Music Production student, Summer 2019.

She followed along to the lyrics in the small cover booklet, her smile faltering a moment at the lyrics come the pre-chorus. It was obvious as to what it was about, especially being written in Summer of 2019 when Matt was still around and it was often that Florence truly ran crying to Daniel when he hurt her.

The third song was titled Falling. Written and Produced by Daniel Seavey, 2nd year Music Production student, September 2019.

Florence’s expression was flat, the words of the song resonating deep in her mind and the emotion behind Daniel’s voice nearly sent chills down her spine as she read along with the lyrics.

That one was followed by Perfect from November 2019, Made For from January 2020, For You from February 2020, What Am I from Summer 2020, all of which just added another weight to Florence’s heart. The angsty heartbroken songs that she was smart enough to know just who they were about, each lyric speaking right to her soul from a part of Daniel’s she hardly knew existed.

She tried not to feel heartbroken herself over the deep lyrics and soft melodies as a vision into Daniel’s own mind through their friendship. She had hurt him so much and never knew. She now sat on their shared bed in their new apartment and fought back her own tears over these songs that he tried to hide from her.

Daniel had finished making lunch for the girls and set them at their small white wooden table to eat, waiting impatiently for Florence to finish putting away the laundry so they could eat together. The minutes passed as he cleaned up the kitchen but there was no sign of her.

“Stay right here, okay?” Daniel said to his two daughters before heading down the hallway to find his fiancé. Their bedroom door was closed which was strange and he opened it and headed inside, only to find Florence sitting on their bed with her laptop open and her headphones on and tears in her eyes.

Daniel was startled by her seemingly sudden emotion but then his gaze landed on the open CD cover and the booklet in her hands and his heart literally stopped.

“Flora.” he breathed as she looked up at him.

She paused What Am I within the last minute and pulled out her earbuds with a shaky inhale, “Why didn’t you show me this?”

“I…” Daniel walked slowly over to her and glanced at her laptop to see what track she was on. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “I didn’t…I…I didn’t want you to be upset. There’s some…heavy and personal shit in these songs.”

“Yeah.” Florence laughed humourlessly, looking back to the simple black booklet in her hands.

“Are you mad at me?” Daniel asked softly.

“Mad at you? You should be mad at me for listening to something you didn’t want me to listen to.” Florence sighed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before her tears could fall.

“They’re all for you anyway.” Daniel shrugged. “Plus it had your name on the cover.”

“You really meant all of this?” Florence asked, holding up the lyric booklet haphazardly.

“Every single word.” Daniel nodded and shuffled to sit beside her on the bed. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve been in love with you from the first moment we met.”

“I didn’t know…that I hurt you this bad all the time.”

“Not all the time.” Daniel tisked. “The hard stuff just makes for the best songs.”

Florence chuckled lightly and Daniel smiled softly and pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek before leaning his head against hers.

“I wrote What Am I the week before Penelope was born.” Daniel said quietly, staring at the song paused on the laptop screen. “And you were the only thing on my mind the whole time…you and our baby that I didn’t know was ours yet.”

“I heard you singing it to her once.”

“Yeah.” Daniel cracked a small smile at the memory.

They sat in silence together, in their own minds and memories, staring at the paused CD.

“Are you gonna listen to the last three?” Daniel asked.

“Are they gonna make me cry?” Florence mumbled.

“No. Next one was the first song I wrote after we started dating.” he flipped the booklet to Taking You, “And then one from when I knew I wanted to marry you,” he flipped to Big Plans, “And finally, my thesis project. Spent all this last year working on it from recordings to lyrics to instrumentals to production and everything in between.” he flipped to the last page to Love Song finished just that last April. “Got a shining 100%.”

Florence smiled at him and stuck her earbud back in but Daniel got up from the bed again. “Are you not going to listen with me?” she frowned.

“Gotta watch our babies so they don’t destroy the house. Come find me after, okay?”

“Okay.” Florence smiled lightly and welcomed his lingering kiss to her lips. She watched him leave before turning back to her laptop and pressed ‘play’.

The upbeat guitar of Taking You instantly made her smile and the sweet lyrics had it sticking; thinking back to the first few weeks of their romantic relationship and how fresh and new everything was. And Big Plans definitely made her cry – especially because it was made in April and he said it was when he knew he wanted to marry her, so far in advance to when he actually proposed. And Love Song. Her favourite on the whole track list, an upbeat and catch incredible song that sounded like it could be professionally made by a famous band. But it was just her Daniel and his deepest, sweetest, honest feelings for her and it only made her more excited to spend the rest of their lives together.

When the album concluded, she took it out of her laptop and put the CD safely away in its case and on Daniel’s desk across the room before heading back down the hallway. She lingered in the doorway a moment to watch Daniel set two plastic cups of apple juice down for the girls and they thanked him sweetly. He stood back up and caught glimpse of Florence in the hallway and they shared small smiles. She headed over to him and he swallowed her up into a warm embrace and peppered a few kisses to her cheek and down her neck.

“I love you so much.” Florence whispered.

“I love you more.” Daniel smiled against her neck.

“Our whole love story on one CD, huh?” she said.

Daniel pulled back from her to look at her face and their noses brushed lightly. He kissed hers before resting their foreheads together, “It is.”

“I’m proud of you. It was all truly beautiful. Can’t believe you didn’t share all that with me before.”

“I’ve shown you bits and pieces.” Daniel shrugged, his eyes falling closed as they stood together in their kitchen, arms wrapped around each other and just breathing together. “But I was too shy.”

“I know.” Florence giggled, giving his hips a small squeeze. She pulled back to look him in the eye. “But now I expect to hear all your beautiful art.”

“Okay.” Daniel leaned in to kiss her lips and they smiled into it before he pulled back just long enough to whisper, “I’ll put it in my vows.”

#anything but mine

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nialledfromfics · 4 years ago

Text

The Dating Game | Chapter Three

He couldn’t get her off his mind. Her infectiously bright smile, the sparkle in her hazelnut eyes every time they locked on his. The way her hair smelled like the sweetest apples ever grown. Her soft giggle, which played over and over in his head like a never ending carousel. They way his body nearly melted any time she got close to him. He barely knew this girl, but he just could not get her off his mind.

Niall woke up early that Sunday morning after the festival so he could sneak in a small workout. But his concentration wasn’t on his squats or the thirty minutes of treadmill time he was required to do. No, it was stuck on her. On her voice, her hair, her lips, her skin. Every part of her made an aching warmth fill his belly, and his heart race like a goddamn horse in his chest. He hadn’t felt that way about someone in a long time, longer than he could remember. And he had no idea how she felt about him, or if she even thought about him at all, but he was determined to keep this girl, this girl he barely knew, in his life. Somehow.

Wiping the sweat from his browline with a small towel, Niall stepped off the treadmill and chugged back some water. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his shorts and switched off the music that had been playing through his earbuds before opening up his texts. His thumbs idled over the screen, almost like he was too nervous and didn’t know what to say and for Niall, that was something very new. He was usually a pretty confident person and had been so used to networking and meeting loads of people over the past ten years of his career, that talking to others always came easy to him. He was incredibly personable. So, sending a simple text to a girl normally wouldn’t stump him up. Normally.

Niall ran his finger over his bottom lip in precarious thought, nervously scratching his nails though the side of his beard before he decided to just bite the bullet and...hit send.

Hey Joey , it’s Niall. Just wanted to see how your date went last night. no puke I hope .

The text sent and Niall stood there in the middle of the gym, staring down at his phone like an idiot. Was he waiting for those tiny little bubbles to pop up? He wasn’t sure but he knew he wasn’t moving a muscle until he was positive she had seen it.

Joey, on the other hand, giggled like a giddy teenager as Alexis jumped up off the sofa and came bounding over to where her friend was standing. “Lemme seeee,” she whined, “what’d he say?”

“He writes like one of the kids in my class,” Joey playfully teased, Alexis gasping and swatting the side of her arm.

“Be nice.”

Joey smiled. “I’m only kidding. It’s cute actually.”

Hooking her hand on her hip, Alexis urged Joey on. “Joey, c’mon, text back. You have to text back.”

“Relax,” she replied, looking over at her best friend, “I am. I’m just...figuring out what I should say.”

Nipping at the inside corner of her mouth, Joey thought for a minute before sending a text back to him.

Hi Niall! Date was okay, no puke, thank God. How was your night?

It wasn’t but a few seconds before another text from Niall had popped up onto Joey’s screen.

N: We had a good Time. it was nice seeing ya . like talking to you .

Slowly flicking her eyes to her best friend as they both read over the text, Alexis tossed her hands up to her mouth to hold in her squeal. She was always a bit over dramatic. Joey smiled and sent him another text.

J: It was nice seeing you too.

N: I’ve asked my agent and manager about gettin you those tickets . . they’re looking around to see what they can find . It shouldnt be too hard though

J: Oh wow, that’s awesome, Niall, I really appreciate it!

N: No problem , Joey , really. I’ll definitely let ya know when I get me hands on some.

Joey bounced happily on the balls of her feet. “This is too much, you think he’s gonna ask you out?” Alexis said.

“Shhh…”

J: You are a Godsend, honestly. The best person I have ever met in probably forever.

“Wow, Jo, way to inflate his ego.”

Joey rolled her eyes at her best friend’s sarcastic comment, dropping her hands in a huff. “Shut up, he’s not like that. I’m just being nice, like you said.” She smiled big at Alexis and raised her brows.

N: Hahahahaha 😂

J: You think I’m kidding, Niall, but I’m serious lol

N: Well . . . I can say the same about you .

J: Now you’re just trying to charm me, aren’t you?

N: eh Maybe 😉

Running his tongue over his lips, Niall fought off the smirk that wanted to invade them as he softly chuckled to himself. He switched his music app back on, sticking his phone into the pocket of his jogger shorts and hopped back onto the treadmill, now having the focus to finish his morning workout.

•

The texts left a blissful smile on Joey’s face that lasted for the next few days. She’d find herself thinking about them, about him, as she was applying her makeup in the bathroom mirror each morning, or drowning out the sound of her shoes on the sidewalk every time she took Sadie for a walk. Or while reading the children their weekly storybook, and fixing herself dinner every night. Her mind was so preoccupied with the fleeting, and foolish, thoughts of Niall, that she had almost forgotten about her date that coming Thursday.

Joey would normally not agree to a date on a weekday given that she had to be at work early the next morning, but the guy she was meeting up with, Felix, was very adamant on seeing the premiere of some sci-fi movie that Joey, frankly, had zero interest in. But she decided that she should just suck it up and file it right into another one of her ‘experience’ folders. It was just a movie, right? She could live through it?

Felix wasn’t the usual type of guy that Joey would go for. He had long unruly hair, seemed a bit unkempt in his general appearance and from what he mentioned, wasn’t very goal oriented; he was in between jobs at the moment but taking his time trying to figure out what he really wanted to do. He was a slacker by all definitions. But he was really sweet in their conversations back and forth, insisting on taking her out, and she thought that there would be no harm in going on a date with him. She didn’t get home from work until a bit after 4pm that Thursday night, and made sure to hop in the shower first thing. After blow drying her long red hair, Joey slipped on a pair of ankle length jeans and a black fitted top, Sadie already jumping at her legs to be pet.

She let out a sigh and bent over to squish the little dog's face, giving her a sweet kiss on the top of her head. “You’re the only one I really need in my life, Sadie girl.”

Joey was to meet Felix at the theater complex around 6:30 as the movie was to start at 7pm. Standing outside the front of the theater, Joey watched as people went in and out of the doors, and it was nearing 6:45 by the time a car had pulled up right in front of her. The passenger door swung open and a guy wearing ripped jeans and a raggedy worn old t-shirt, and matching the pictures she had seen on his profile, stepped out. He waved to the person driving, an elderly looking lady, as he slammed the car door shut and stepped over to Joey.

“Hey, I’m Felix.”

The young woman smiled politely. “Hi, I’m Joey.”

They shook hands, Joey fumbling with keeping the strap of her bag hooked on her shoulder as Felix peered up at the large marquee sign above the entrance. “Sorry for being late, I had to wait for my grandma to get done making my grandpa his dinner.”

Her lips parted briefly and Joey pointed a finger at where the car had come to a stop. “That was...your grandmother?”

Felix nodded. “Yeah...I live in their basement. And I don’t really have a car right now, so she drives me.” Joey stayed quiet. “Should we go in?”

•

Joey was right about the movie, absolutely zero interest. And she had just about as much interest in Felix. That had to have been the longest, and most boring, two hours of her life. She was not just bored out of her mind, she was also well beyond annoyed. Not only could Felix not hold a conversation to save his life, but he dropped their only bag of popcorn into Joey’s lap when he got up to use the restroom and he also completely misread a polite lean in halfway through the movie to quietly inquire about a character and tried to unexpectedly kiss her. Totally unprovoked and very much unwanted. It did not go over well.

Walking out through the theater doors in a huff, the night air hit with a gust and Joey felt like she could finally breathe again. She quickly yanked her phone out of her bag and, without saying a word to her date, requested a Lyft home. The driver was only three minutes out. Felix followed behind as she stepped closer to the street and paused to stand right next to her. “Thanks for paying, I really can’t believe I left my wallet at home.”

Joey rolled her eyes, checking on how close her ride was. “No worries,” she told him with a forced smile. “It happens.”

He ran his hand through the front of his hair and chewed on the corner of his lip. Joey’s Lyft pulled up and she looked over at Felix. “Um...I guess I should go-”

“Hey do you maybe wanna go get something to eat? Nothing too fancy since you’ll be paying and all.” He laughed, as if what he was saying was an actual joke. It wasn’t.

Furrowing her brows, she just stared at him and shook her head. “No, thanks I’m-”

A text message coming through her phone interrupted her, the device vibrating in her hand. Joey glanced down and clicked open her messages.

N: Hey Joey. . I know this is last minute , but I just got u some tickets to a Wildflowers show at the Echo on Sunset that starts in about an hour . u down?

Her heart nearly beat out of her chest as she read over the text Niall had sent and she quickly sent him one back.

J: Holy shit, yes!! I can totally meet you there in 20?

N: yeah sure . see ya There

Clamping her teeth on her bottom lip to hold in her ever growing smile, she looked up at Felix. “Sorry, I gotta go,” she said, clambering into the backseat of her ride, “thanks for-...uh, yeah, have a good night!” She slammed the door shut and told the driver where she needed to go, the car pulling away and leaving Felix there alone to wait for his grandma.

•

The ride to the venue was one filled with giddiness and a tinge of nerves. Joey had no idea why she was nervous; seeing her favorite band live for the first time, maybe seeing Niall again, she really wasn’t sure, but she did know she was beyond excited. Coming to a stop out front of the club, Joey could see Niall already standing there waiting for her. He was wearing fitted trousers, a vintage t-shirt and a jean jacket. His hands were stuffed down in his pockets, his hair gently tousled to the side and he quietly watched people shuffling into the venue as Joey’s eyes stuck to him like there was no one else around. He looked incredible.

Climbing out of the vehicle, Joey thanked her driver and it was then that Niall finally saw her. The smile on her face was brighter than he had ever seen before, her light brown eyes sparkling in the neon lights that laced the street above them and for a moment, as his stare locked on hers, he could have sworn that everyone else around them had vanished. His heart picked up its pace as she walked towards him, flicking her long red hair over her shoulder and before he could even register what was happening, Niall found Joey crashing her body against his in a hug.

She wasn’t even thinking. She saw him standing there waiting for her, his cheeks rounding in a huge smile that caused the cutest dimple to crease his skin and for a split second, Joey lost all control over herself. Her breath caught in her throat the second her body touched his; her arms curling around his neck so tight like she was a drowning victim who needed rescuing and Niall barely hesitated before his arms wrapped around her middle. Closing her eyes as she inhaled along with him, she felt his splayed hand gently rub just a fraction across the span of her upper back before Joey clumsily cleared her throat and pulled away.

An awkward giggle left her lips but Niall just smiled even bigger at her. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” she replied, biting her lip as she took a tiny step back and adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “You actually kinda saved me.”

Niall’s brows wrinkled. “Yeah? How’s that?”

Flicking her stare off of his, Joey dropped her chin down. “Well, I was on another date, a really shitty date actually and you texted me and-…” she peered back up at him, “you just have impeccable timing.”

He laughed, his head tossing back a bit. “I’m glad I could save ya from another disaster.”

“Me too.”

Licking across his lips, Niall found himself locked in her gaze for a moment, unintentional but not surprising before he realized why he was there meeting her in the first place. He shook his head out of his daydream. “Oh…” he mumbled, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out two ticket stubs. “Here, these are for you.”

Joey glanced down at the tickets held out towards her and she stared at them for a second, a slight disbelief coming over her. He really did it. He really got them for her. She gently grabbed the tickets and looked back up at him. “I can’t believe I’m really holding Wildflower tickets,” she giggled, not even bothering to fight the huge smile on her face, “it’s like a dream!”

Niall chuckled, lowering his head as he carded his fingers through his hair. “Well, I hope ya have a good time.”

“Wait…” Joey tipped her head to the side, her brows cinching in, “you’re not coming in with me?”

Locking his gaze on hers, Niall’s mouth gently parted. “Did...did ya want me to come in with you?” he asked, his brows raising.

“Well...yeah,” Joey scoffed, “I-...I mean, I was hoping you would, if you don’t, like, have other plans. I wouldn’t even have these tickets if it weren’t for you.”

Niall darted his stare with hers, Joey softly biting down into her bottom lip as she waited for his answer and he gave her a faint nod, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Okay...yeah, I’d love to.”

“Yay!” she squealed, causing a chuckle from Niall. “We’re gonna have so much fun!” Handing him one of the tickets back, Joey stepped past Niall to lead the way into the venue and he followed behind her, staying as close as he possibly could.

•

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was the prettiest, most alluring woman he had ever seen and the way she let go to the music, the way she felt it, singing along and smiling and laughing, it was all so...captivating. Her eyes gleamed every time he caught a glimpse of them, her body moving like a dandelion seed in the wind; effortless and free. She was beautiful.

Joey did not stop smiling the entire night. Happiness seemed to come naturally to her, it lit her up from the inside and was nearly infectious. So much so, that Niall, keeping his stare on her as much as he could, found himself smiling right along with her. There was something about her that he liked, really liked, almost admired and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. But he enjoyed being around her. More than he had enjoyed being around anyone in a long time.

The concert ended a bit before midnight, and Niall and Joey filed out of the venue along with the other concert goers. Stopping right out front, Joey eased her eyes up to Niall’s as she faced him. Taking in a deep breath, they both stood quiet for a moment before a few giggles broke the silence. Joey tipped her head down in shyness before peering back up at Niall.

As his eyes fawned over her face, soaking in the beauty of the delicate slope of her nose and the fullness of her bare lips, he slowly reached out to her. Joey’s breath stalled. “May I?” he whispered. She nodded, unsure of what she was consenting to as Niall moved his hand closer and lightly brushed a few strands of her red hair from off her cheek to tuck behind her ear.

Her lips gently parted and her eyes fluttered as the warmth of his skin touched hers and Niall froze just as his fingertip slipped down the shell of her ear. Swallowing hard, he flicked his stare over hers before quickly retracting his hand, hastily shoving it into the front pocket of his pants. Joey smirked at his nervous reaction. “Thank you so much for the tickets,” she softly spoke up after clearing her throat, “I feel like I should repay you but...I don’t even know where to begin.”

“No, no...please,” Niall said, shaking his head as he attempted to run his hand through his dark hair, “no need, really. As long as you had a good time, that’s all

that matters.”

She smiled at him again. “I did...thank you.” Letting out a short sigh, Joey peeked over her shoulder at the traffic buzzing past their intersection and grabbed her phone from her back pocket. “I guess I should be getting home.”

Niall watched her click into her phone and start to scroll through. “Did you drive here?”

“No,” Joey replied, catching his stare, “but it’s fine, I’ll just get a Lyft or something.”

“I, uh...I’m only parked a couple blocks up,” he mentioned, pointing up the street from them,”if you don’t mind walkin’ a bit, I can take ya home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course!”

A soft grin spread over her lips. “Okay, thank you.”

They began to walk in the direction of where Niall’s car was parked, not stressing on time or needing something to chat about. There was no rush, there was no pressure and Joey slowly kept pace with Niall, their shoulders bumping every so often. It was a clear night out, a soft breeze kissing their skin as the bright lights from the storefronts and the blazing of car horns in the distance seemed to drown out between their harmonious giggles and easy flowing small talk.

“By the way, that show was fucking amazing,” Joey commented.

“You enjoyed it?”

“Enjoyed it?” she laughed, “Niall, this was definitely one of the best nights of my life in, like,...forever. It was like a fucking dream.”

Niall’s head tipped back in a laugh, his hand perching on the front of his stomach. “Good,” he managed to stutter out, looking back over at her, “I’m glad you had a great time.”

She brushed some hair from her face and smiled at him. “The best time.”

“Better than your date earlier?” he asked, raising a brow.

Joey playfully narrowed her stare. “What, are you keeping score?”

“No, no...just curious.”

The young woman tilted her head down in a bashful smile before she peered back over at him. “A hundred times better than my date earlier.”

Giving her a nod, he raised his hand up and motioned a checkmark symbol into the air. “One check for me.”

Not being able to hold in her laugh, Joey pinched her eyes shut as the sweet sound left her lips and leaned her face over to rest against the peak of his shoulder. Niall slowed his steps as he flicked his eyes down, seeing just the top of her head. She quickly looked up at him, a smile still tugging at her mouth. “You are too funny.”

“I try,” he shrugged with a half smirk.

“Hey, out of my own curiosity,” Joey started, crossing her arms over her chest as they continued walking, “do you think you’d ever...join one of those dating apps?”

His brows furrowed. “Tinder?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh...fuck, no,” he scoffed, his bluntness causing Joey to cover her mouth in a giggle. Niall’s eyes went big as he caught what he had said and looked over at her, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “I...I don’t mean that in a bad way, Joey, ya know, more power to ya and all, but, it’s just…with what I do, with who I am, I can barely trust the people I already know in me real life. No way I could trust some random strangers I met off if an app.”

Nodding her head, Joey dropped her stare. “Yeah, I mean, I obviously don’t do what you do, so I can’t really even begin to know what that’s like, but...I do understand what you mean about trusting people.”

Her tone had softened with that last bit and Niall instantly took notice. He licked across his lips as his eyes tried to read her face. “You have a hard time trustin’ people too?” he asked her.

Joey nodded and caught Niall’s gaze once more. “I didn’t before,” she began to explain, “you know, I was probably the most trusting person you’d ever meet, which...was probably a fault in the end. But my ex, Jake-...he was...not the greatest person. He was manipulating and controlling and just not a nice guy, and I wasted three years of my life on him. Even when I knew that I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry, that’s fuckin’ terrible.”

“We broke up, like, two years ago, and it’s taken me that long to even think about trusting anyone again,” she lifted her shoulders in a shrug, “It’s pretty much why I haven’t started to date again until now.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I dunno, though, I just think datin’ is...too time consumin’, ya know?” Niall said with a short laugh, holding out his hands as he looked over at Joey, “I mean, gettin’ to know someone should feel more...organic, it should come easy and not feel so...forced. I dunno.” With a little shrug, he peeked down at the toes of his shoes, “Like I said, I don’t date much. I love the actual relationship part, that’s nice, ya know, bein’ with someone, havin’ all those experiences with ‘em, but the whole...meetin’ someone for the first time and goin’ out and gettin’ to know the person...fuckin’ hell.”

He shifted his blue eyes over and locked his stare on Joey’s. “Kinda wish you could just...skip all that.”

A smile pulled at her lips and she pushed out a tiny giggle. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“It’s not like I never dated anyone or anythin’,” Niall went on, “Me last girlfriend...she was a great girl, don’t get me wrong, we were together for nearly a year but...it got to a point that I just wasn’t feelin’ it anymore and I had to end it. I felt horrible, ya know, ‘cause I did love her in a way, but...it just wasn’t right anymore, somethin’ wasn’t right.”

There was a fraction of quiet that wafted between them as Niall’s words left his lips before Joey spoke up. “Well...at least you didn’t lead her on for years to the point that she was expecting you to propose or some shit.”

“Oh…God,” Niall threw his head back with a loud groan, running his palms over the front of his face. “I can’t even think about that at this point in me life.”

Joey giggled again. “I’m now picturing myself married to that guy from tonight and...wow, complete shitshow.”

They both bowed over in laughter. “At least you can admit it.”

“That’s the first step, Niall.”

After a few more laughs and about half a block, they finally reached Niall’s car. Yanking the keys from his pocket, Niall unlocked it before stepping over to the passenger side door to kindly open it for Joey.

Her brows raised at the chivalrous gesture and she peered at him as she climbed in and settled into the seat. “Still trying to charm me?”

“Absolutely.”

With a lopsided smirk, he gave her a playful wink and closed her door.

Joey lived in Toluca Lake, which was about a thirty five minute drive through Hollywood from the concert venue. Not really unheard of for LA, but still out of the way from where Niall had mentioned that he lived. They had to literally pass his house on the way. If Joey had known that, she definitely would have insisted on getting a Lyft instead, the last thing she wanted to be was a bother.

Despite the extra time in the car for Niall, he rather enjoyed the aspect of driving Joey home. It gave him more time to get to know her, to talk to her. To hear her voice and her laugh and see her smile. Joey was even more enthralled with Niall. Hearing him go on and on about his music and his many passions, seeing the way his face lit up with the mention of his favorite bands and athletes. The deep tone of his voice was so rousing, his accent so sexy, it sent shivers down Joey’s spine with every mention of her name. The way his stare stayed focused on the road ahead, his big hand perched up on the steering wheel as his thumb gently tapped along with the low hum of the music that was playing on the radio.

She couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

Pulling up to the front of Joey’s apartment building, Niall stopped the car and put it in park. Joey turned her head to stare up at the modest brick-front building, and scraped her teeth along her bottom lip. She almost didn’t want to get out of the car. Looking back over at Niall, she smiled. “I had a really great time, Niall, it was nice hanging out with you. No...weird expectations, ya know?

He nodded, dropping his hand into his lap. “Yeah, I had a good time.”

“Thank you again for the tickets, seriously,” she said, “It was one of the best shows I’ve ever been to.”

“I was actually pleasantly surprised, to be honest, I had never seen them live before.”

“Now you know why I love them so much.”

They both let out soft chuckles and Joey peeked down into her lap. “Hey, um…” Niall began, causing Joey to flick her gaze back to his, “would it be weird if I, like, texted you some time? Just to, like, chat or whatever. I quite like talkin’ to ya.”

Joey tucked her bottom lip into her mouth. “I like talking to you too, that’d be great. I’d like that.”

“Cool,” Niall said, carding his fingers through his hair, “Maybe we can, um, go get some coffee or somethin’ this weekend, if you’re free or whatever.”

“Yeah, sure, that’d be fun,” she replied with a nod, reaching down to unhook her seatbelt.

Niall smiled. “Alright, well...I’ll text ya then. Have a good night, Joey.”

Opening her door, Joey stepped out of the car. “You have a good night too, Niall,” she said with a sweet smile before giving him a wave and shutting the door.

Niall watched with hooded eyes as she walked up to her building's door and put in the code, Joey sweeping her hair to rest over her one shoulder as she disappeared inside. Sitting there for a moment, Niall let his eyes fall closed and tipped his head back on the seat, a long and heartfelt sigh sliding past his parted lips

#niall #niall horan #niall fic #niall fanfic #niall smut #niall ou #slowburn #tdg #chap 3 #actually really like this chapter #we get to see more of niall and joey and thats always good ;)#hope you guys like it!#please take a read #share!!!#and let me know what you think!!!!

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sabraeal · 4 years ago

Text

In Plain Sight, Chapter 3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Obiyuki AU Bingo Any AU of Your Choice (Witness Protection AU)

The thing about lying is: Shirayuki is terrible at it.

“So, Claire.” There’s no way her neighbor can know it’s a fake name, there’s no way she can be stressing it, not this perfect-picture Texan housewife who probably hasn’t thought about Witness Protection since the last time she watched Witness. “What is it you do?”

Shirayuki stares dumbly, mouth dry. She has a-- a brief or whatever, sitting somewhere in her luggage since it seemed silly to just whip it out during the flight, letting everyone seated in row eight see her new identity, but she--

She has no idea who she is. Who Claire Roos is.

“Um,” she manages, scuffing the edge of her sandal on the curb. “I, ah--”

Don’t have a job yet seems like a terrible way to start a conversation, especially right in front of a dream house that is too big for one single academic and definitely cost quite a bit of cash, so thankfully she’s saved the indignity by the unmarked white van that skids straight up to where they stand.

Oh, good. Now would actually be a great time to be kidnapped. Anything to save her from this.

“Excuse me, young man,” Mrs Kino calls out stridently as a man twice the size of them struts out of the driver’s side, her mouth pulled into a disapproving frown. “This is a neighborhood with children!”

Shirayuki stares at her. So does her kidnapper, popping one of his earbuds out. “Come again?”

If anything, this only makes Mrs Kino’s countenance more forbidding. “We have children here, sir.” When he continues to stare blankly, she clarifies, impatient, “Please drive with more care!”

“Oh.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Roos?”

His gaze swings between them in question, but his slouched posture gave the impression he wasn’t all too concerned with the answer.

“Not me,” Mrs Kino says, sending her an expectant look, and--

Oh. Roos. That’s her. She’s Roos.

“That’s me. Roos!” she blurts out smoothly. “Claire Roos.”

“Okay. Great.” He slides open the side of the van, and she braces herself--

For him to drop a half dozen boxes at her feet. White boxes, with the word WALMART emblazoned on the side.

“What?” she murmurs, toes shying back. “I didn’t--”

“Have a nice day,” he says, slamming the door. “Make sure you give the delivery five stars, okay?”

“O-okay.” She stares down at the siege of low-quality home goods around her. “But I really didn’t--”

He’s already got his earbud back in, strutting around to the driver’s side and-- and she’s stuck with whatever is in these boxes. Probably pin-up girl shower curtains and whatever the doormat version of The Kiss poster is, if her handler had a hand in this.

She glances up at her house, dread squeezing her chest. He might have decorated the whole place. He might have even picked this house out for her. There might even be a galley kitchen in there.

“Well now, looks like you planned ahead!” Mrs Kino remarked, surveying her sea of boxes. “Wouldn’t have even thought to get a delivery on moving day.”

“Oh, I didn’t--” she bites down on the words-- “even remember it was coming.”

“Ain’t that just the way.” Mrs Kino shakes her head, giving a wry laugh. “Moving just gets everyone all turned around, doesn’t it? Anyway, you best get those inside. Don’t want anything to go bad right out here on the lawn, do we?”

Shirayuki just stares, wondering how cheap home goods could expire any more than they already have. “Ah...right. Of course.”

“You need help carrying these up?” her neighbor nods at the winding steps up to the door. “Might save you a trip.”

Oh gosh, the stairs. They’re nothing now, just a lovely little accent built into her yard’s natural hill, but in the winter, she’ll have to--

Her whole body jerks to a stop. She’s not in New England anymore, she’s in-- in Texas. The South. She won’t have to shovel them.

“Claire?”

She wipes the grin from her face. “Um, yes! If you don’t mind.”

Mrs Kino smiles up at her brightly. “Why, not at all. It’s the neighborly thing to do! Around here, we’re all as close as family.”

“Oh.” Her lips pulls tight against her teeth. “Just perfect.”

“That looks like all of it,” Mrs Kino pants, dropping the last box up at the door.

It takes every last ounce of willpower for Shirayuki to not just collapse on the stairs. She knew it would be warmer here-- after all, going south mean getting closer to the equator, and the equator means hot, so it made sense that the further south she went the more heat there would be, but--

Garack once had to do a timed experiment for four hours in the warm room, and sometime around hour two, when Shirayuki thought that if she dared to move she would collapse like melted ice cream held together by the magic shell of her skin, Garack announced that this was as miserable as Satan’s asscrack, and well--

This place is worse than that. By at least an order of magnitude.

Mrs Kino casts a pointed look to where she clenches the wrought-iron rail and asks, “You sure you don’t want help bringing them in?”

“Oh, no!” Shirayuki waves her hands, keys jingling against her palm. Even the sound is strange, like how room keys jangle when on vacation, hollow and far too few. “The house, it’s really--”

She doesn’t know what it’s really, because she’s never seen a single piece of it. Which is part of the problem, since presumably people look at the houses they’re going to buy, even if they’re clear across the country.

“Messy,” she settles on. That’s safe, at least. “I’ll need a few days to get it into ship-shape.”

“Oh, of course!” Kino gives her a wide smile, more earnest than she deserves. “I know just how it is. But you just holler if you need anything. Me and Harold are just a hedge away!”

“Ah, yes! Right!” She edges back toward her door, fishing for the keyhole. Holding this smile is starting to hurt. It’ll be the last thing left of her if she melts, just a pearly white set of teeth on top of a pile of vaguely Shirayuki-ish goo. “I’ll...holler.”

“Good.” Kino makes it nearly two stairs down before turning back. “Oh, I clear forgot to mention. I always have the ladies of the neighborhood by Thursday afternoon. Just a small little get-together. You’ll have to come.”

Oh no. No.

“Of course.” The reasonable part of her watches in horror as instinct takes over and her body nods. “I’d love to, Mrs Kino.”

“It’s Martha, please,” she laughs, waving her off. “I’ll have to let all the girls know you’re coming by. They’ll be pleased as punch, I can tell you.”

Shirayuki watches her walk away with a pit of dread growing in her gut. “Great. I...can’t wait.”

With a grunt, Shirayuki hauls the last box into the foyer. She’s half tempted to just crawl the last step in rather than walk. As it is, she barely stumbles over that hurdle, hauling herself up the last half foot before she collapses against the door. Its cool surface is a godsend; she slides down it with a long, loud squeak, leaving a trail of sweat behind her. She’d be horrified, if it didn’t feel so good.

The AC is blasting, and the vent hits her where she sits, cold air cooling the slick surface of her skin, turning it blissfully sticky instead.

Well, those are words she never quite thought she’d use in that order.

The sweat she’s been dripping onto the beautiful natural wood floor beneath her slows to a stop. With a sigh, she leans her head against the door, grimacing as her hair sticks to her neck. She needs a shower.

But first the boxes. Then she can think of a way to thank Mrs—Martha for her help, and next Thurday when she goes to—

Oh no. Lunch. A ladies’ lunch. What was she thinking?

She needs an adult. Ridiculously, she wonders if Agent Jiang would pick up.

No, not him. Agent Jiang-- Obi was probably the one who thought ordering home décor from Walmart was the pinnacle of adulthood. He’s the sort of man who has one kitchen towel, and it has chili peppers on it.

A sweaty palm claps to her cheek. A ladies’ lunch. Oh gosh, she’s going to have to make something.

She doesn’t even have groceries. She’ll have to-- to go out and find a store and buy them. The produce might not even be local. They might have a bad organic section. There may not even be a Whole Foods for miles. The World Food’s aisle might only have pasta in it.

Shirayuki isn’t cut out for this-- this whole moving thing. She likes knowing that the Roche Brothers on the corner buys their produce local, but that the Market Basket has the better selection of spices. Or that the Whole Foods is cheaper but the Trader Joe’s two towns over has a better freezer section. Now she doesn’t even know if there is more than one store, and she--

She breathes. In. Out. She’ll just have to live with it. One step at a time.

Step one: open up these boxes. Better to find out now what inappropriate shot glasses her handler got her to christen the kitchen.

Slipping her key between her knuckles, she slices the first box open, flipping the lid to find--

Shirayuki blinks. Tilting the box, she reads Walmart, right on the side, big star in the middle. That...can’t be right.

She peers back inside, but the contents haven’t changed: fresh produce, still leafy and green. Carrots, spinach, a couple of cheerful looking eggplants, and even a clamshell of strawberries is tucked underneath.

“Well,” she murmurs, stymied. “That’s...unexpected.”

She turns to the next box, a heavier one, and it’s packed to the top with spices. Cinnamon, coriander, garlic, oregano, basil, thyme, curry, cumin-- big bottles she would have had to buy out of the Goya section back home. And now they’re all sitting in this box from Walmart.

Settling back on her heels, Shirayuki surveys the last four boxes, just as big as the first two. One of them is cold to the touch.

She blinks. “Walmart sells groceries?”

The only answer is her echo, but that-- that’s fine, because every box she opens is packed to the gills with foodstuffs-- chicken and beef and shrimp in one; flour, sugar, a dozen other baking needs, including two bags of chocolate chips; another filled with butter and eggs and milk. By the last box, she has a fully stocked kitchen, plus or minus a few personal needs.

“Well,” she breathes, “looks like he might know his way around the kitchen after all.”

That, or he has a very helpful coworker. Either way, she has food, and a--

“Kitchen!” She peers down the hall, curious. “I need to find the kitchen.”

Hauling herself to her feet, she lifts the box of dairy and detours past the stairs, leading into--

Oh, well. That’s a surprise.

Shirayuki can admit it: Marshal Jiang has outdone himself. Or at least, whichever agent vetted this house for purchase.

The kitchen could be straight out of one of those home and garden magazines Oma liked to have laying out around the B&B: track lighting hung right over the kitchen island, granite countertops, a double oven with separate range. It’s every improvement Opa had vetoed to their own, saying it was all a pipe dream when they still had repairs to do to the bathrooms, and the roof would need to be redone in the summer--

A summer that never came. And never would, now.

Her hands tighten around the box. There’s no time to dwell, not now when she has perishables to rescue and a kitchen to organize.

Start with what you can fix, Opa would say, the content of his tool box littered around him, and forget about what you can’t.

“Right,” she murmurs, setting the box on the counter. “Dairy first.”

The entire house, once she’s showered the sweat off and is finally able to explore, is as impressive as the kitchen. The whole first floor is open concept, kitchen flowing into the living room on one side and the dining area on the other, bathroom and home office tucked down a small hallway-- and every inch of it is homey, done up on soft fabrics and warm woods, looking both lived-in and clean.

But the pièce de résistance is the master bedroom, because--

“Oh gosh.” The words are muffled through the world’s fluffiest duvet. “It’s memory foam.”

Shirayuki flips onto her back with a sigh. It’s definitely not home-- nothing could be-- but it’s something. Something she can try to make into one.

“Hot in!” someone yells, muted, and Shirayuki bolts upright, heart pounding in her chest.

“So hot in here!” they continue, a siren blaring behind the words, and she realizes-- it’s her phone. Her phone is...singing to her.

She frowns, reaching across the bed to snatch it up from the nightstand. There’s no picture on the caller ID, just the words Sugar Daddy.

She definitely does not know anyone named that.

“Hello?” she squeaks, dragging herself further onto the bed. “Who is this?”

“It’s me,” says the man on the other end, and the quick jolt in her belly identifies him better than a name could: Marshal Jiang. Obi.

Anxious butterflies beat against her rib cage. He must have some-- some reason for calling. Official reasons. Marshals don’t call their charges just to chat.

Probably. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” He sounds amused through the speaker; she can almost imagine the smug grin he has on his face. “I just wanted to check in. Make sure you’ve settled in all right. Hear any complaints.”

“Oh, right.” She rolls upright; they might be on the phone, but lounging on a bed while talking to Obi seems...weird. “I’m...good?”

He hums, amused. “No trouble?”

Besides him abandoning her to her fate on her front lawn, and her inability to lie for more than three minutes at a time?

“Well, I don’t think I said anything strange in front of my neighbor,” she says instead, stomach clenching as she rifles through her memory. “She invited me to meet the other neighbors at lunch, or, um, tea? Something like that. I’ll have to make something, I think.”

“Oh,” he murmurs. “That’s something.”

“It’s the neighborly thing to do,” she informs him. “I think I might go with cookies. That’s simple, and everyone likes cookies.”

“I know I do,” he agrees, and she has no idea why it sounds like he’s on the verge of a laugh. “But I mean: no signs of Umihebi or her people? No one lingering outside your house? No unmarked vans? You feel safe?”

“Oh!” Right, because that’s what he’s worried about: her getting shot. Or kidnapped. Or whatever it is that mob bosses do to girls like her. “Yes. I mean, no. No one hanging around. Though the Walmart van was unmarked, but-- groceries.” She lets out a laugh. “Did you know they deliver groceries?”

He’s definitely smothering a laugh. “I sure did, miss.”

Right, because he’s probably the one that ordered it. Or had a PA order it, or whatever. “I didn’t realize they had, um, food.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “It’s popular around here.”

She goggles. “For groceries?”

“Sure is.” There’s a pause, and she can just feel his shrug, even if she can’t see it. “There’s Kroger’s too, and I think a Stop and Shop a few towns over, if you look real hard, and a Wegman’s that just opened in the strip mall--”

“Do you live here?” She cringes. She could really do to sound less interested. “I mean, close by? Nearby?”

“Close enough.”

She raises a brow. That was more than a little cagey. “Close enough to know all the grocery stores.”

“Close enough for you to tell my boss I’m a very helpful handler when review time comes around.” He lets out an amused huff. “I can tell you who has the best pizza too.”

“Oh, um.” She’s half-tempted to ask, but that seems-- personal. He might like that greasy Mediterranean style, and she just-- she doesn’t need to know that about him. “Well, you can give my compliments to the person who decorated the house. It’s lovely.”

“O-oh?” He’s suddenly removed, almost shy. “You think so?”

She runs a hand along the duvet, floral and yet somehow not grandmother-y. “Very. She did a great job.”

“Right. Yes. She did.” He hesitates, clearing his throat. “Anything in particular you like? For, uh, feedback reasons. She loves to hear specifics.”

“Well, the kitchen is--” Shirayuki sighs, content-- “heaven.”

“The kitchen is the heart of the home.” He coughs. “I mean, that’s what she says. A lot.”

Shirayuki smiles. “Well, she’s right.”

“Mm,” he hums, absent. “And the couch is okay?”

“It’s the perfect softness,” she enthuses. “I don’t disappear into it, but it still hugs you, you know?”

“Good, great.” His fingers drum in the background. “That’s the hardest part.”

“Oh?”

“I mean--” he hesitates, so long she can hear him breathe-- “so she says.”

“It’s perfect.” Shirayuki settles back onto the pillows-- there’s a thousand of them, just like she likes, all different sizes and shapes, a veritable army of throw pillows like any self-respecting bedroom should have. “And I haven’t slept on it, but the bed--”

Shirayuki stops herself. He isn’t-- Obi probably isn’t the best person to be talking about beds to, not when her lips still tingle from touching his. That’s not...safe.

“It’s fine,” she finishes lamely. “Is there anything else she’d like me to compliment? I’d be happy to get her into heaven, if she wanted.”

“I think she’d be happier with a raise.”

She cocks her head, pressing the phone between her ear and shoulder. “Something to mention around review time?”

He sniffs. “Only as an addendum to how handled you feel under me.”

He doesn’t mean it as-- as anything, just trying to be funny, but something sweeps through her, not heat but-- but something like a shiver, like the tingle of a limb waking up, and she’s not sure if she likes it.

“Well,” she manages, mouth utterly dry, “I don’t know how they’ll feel about the nickname Sugar Daddy...”

“Ah, well.” He at least has the grace to sound contrite, even if it’s in no way sincere. “You’re welcome to change it. You’ll be paying for all this yourself anyway, soon.”

It’s good they’re on the phone; he can’t see her grimace. All this on what will probably be an adjunct’s salary. She feels faint just thinking about it.

“Which reminds me,” he continues, “I’ll send over your new resume tomorrow. You’ll probably want that when you apply for jobs.”

Shirayuki bites back a groan. It’s a herculean effort not to ask why the government could pay for all this upfront, but somehow not arrange for a tenured position. Or at least an interview. “Great.”

“Is there anything else you need?” he asks. “I’m here to serve.”

“Aren’t you here to handle?” The words just fall out of her before she can stop herself. “I mean, ah...”

This is terrible, how much she wants to impress him. Shirayuki’s known him for less than twelve hours, and her palms are sweaty just talking to him. Every time his voice drops, she thinks about how he laughed as her mouth chased his, how he’d said I’ve missed you too--

Ugh, if this is what middle school was like for everyone else, they can have it back. This is torture.

“Handling you is already the most fun I’ve had in years,” he remarks, so casual, like he doesn’t even know how that’s going to make her heart misbehave in her chest. “But nothing else.?”

She doesn’t want to end on this, on her just blurting out an innuendo and letting him think she means things, so she grabs at the first thing she can think of. “Can I change the landscaping?”

“Wha--?” he replies, eloquent.

“It’s just…” She clears her throat. “Lawns consume a lot of water, and just are for show. If I put in a garden, or natural grasses, I could—“

“Sure,” he chokes out. He’s laughing. “I think you can do whatever you want.”

“Great.” Now he thinks she’s--weird. That’s fine. That’s...probably accurate. “Good. So, um, good night?”

“Yeah.” It’s quiet when he says it, a little more than a breath. “Good night.”

Shirayuki thumbs the End Call button, watching as Sugar Daddy flashes before disappearing from the screen. That went...well. As well as could be expected, considering how all she can think about is his hand threading through her hair and his hand at her back and--

Things. Professional things. Professional things she can totally handle. Because she is not thinking about how her handler could definitely handle her, and--

She takes another breath. In. Out. It’s fine. She may be experiencing this whole-- attraction, but it will pass. Hopefully. And if it doesn’t, well... she only has to deal with this for the rest of her life.

Shirayuki drops the phone like it burns, claps her hands over her face, and screams.

#obiyukibingo2020 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #witness protection au #my fic #ans #this whole fic is just shirayuki being an awkward turtle in every situation #i'm sure she'll find her footing #at some point #but it won't be any time soon #and obi just thinks it's adorable #and also a problem #his own personal problem

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spideyscnse · 5 years ago

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hey, i saw u were taking requests and i really love your writing!! could u possibly do something where reader is a nerd and she works at a bookstore and peter comes in?? idk where to go from there but i’d like it to be super fluffy and cute if u like :))) thank u so much x

a/n: hi! aw, i’m so flattered that you love my writing! i’m so so sorry for taking so long, but i was so excited by this idea when i saw it because it’s so cute! to make up for it i wrote 3k words and made it extra cute :) hope you enjoy

sci-fi

pairing: peter parker x booknerd!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: none :) just super cute fluff and pureness

summary: y/n is so much of a book lover that the moment she hit fifteen, she applied for a job at her favourite, local bookstore. one day, a boy called peter parker shows up at the store.

note: please don’t plagiarise my work!

masterlist

You had your earbuds in as you left the school through the back gate—the gate that would take the least amount of time to get to the bookstore. You had work today, and it was why Tuesdays and Thursdays were your favourite days of the week.

Your school was a small one, almost adjacent to the prestigious Midtown High, where all of the smart kids went. You went to a girl’s private school opposite to it, and while you liked her school well enough, you sometimes wished that you’d applied to Midtown instead. Just because it seemed so much bigger and fun. Maybe it was just you, though.

The store was a fifteen-minute walk away, and you managed to get through four songs on your way there.

Pulling out your earbuds and switching off your music, you pushed the door open with a soft tinkle and made your way into the store. The relaxing smell of worn pages and coffee greeted you instantly, and just at the scent, you felt yourself calm, because it was such a homely feeling for you.This was where you were when you weren’t at school or at home, and it had been your place to go since you were very little.

“Good afternoon, Jane,” You called out to the manager, who sat at the checkout desk, and the kind lady gave you a warm smile, like she did every time she saw you.

“Hey, Y/N,” She responded, glancing up from the tablet she was scrolling through, no doubt checking through book orders, “You got here quickly, today.”

You chuckled, “Oh, yeah, I saw on Instagram that the next book in my favourite series got released yesterday and I rushed here as soon as I could.”

“Alright,” Jane said with an amused, affectionate look in her eyes, “Well, go get changed into your uniform and then you can go find that book you want.”

Eagerly, you nodded and headed to the back room to drop off your bag and change out of your school’s uniform—a white blouse and dark green skirt. The school logo was embroidered over the chest pocket of the shirt, and a silver and green tie hung from around your neck, tucked neatly under the collar.

Quickly, you pulled out your work clothes, which were far more comfortable—Jane was pretty loose on the dress code, so long as you wore the lanyard and name badge. So, today you’d opted to bring a grey sweatshirt and leggings, which would be cosy enough for you to walk between the shelves and look for people who needed help—also, for you to find that book you needed.Once you’d folded up your school uniform and slipped it neatly into your bag, you stepped out into the store again, greeted by the smell again, that you’d never get tired of.You headed to the YA aisle, the one where you knew your book would be, and you spotted it immediately—it was sitting gloriously on the new releases table, and you quickly snatched up a copy, flipping through it and letting out a satisfied sigh. You resisted the urge to just start reading it then and there, reminding yourself that you were at work and there were customers all around you. So, instead you slipped it into the front pocket of your sweatshirt, making a mental note to pay for it when you left.

Despite your efforts to focus, though, the thoughts of that one book remained swirling in your mind. This made it very difficult to maintain a calm tone of voice when people asked you for help finding things, just because on the inside, you were far too excited.

But you still went about your job like you always would—calmly, kindly, and patiently. Even with the people who complained to you about the prices, or tried to haggle you for a deal, no doubt thinking you’d give it to them, since you were young and looked it, too.

You were sorting through a massive stack of books that had arrived the day before, unboxing each, marking them down and then ordering them alphabetically on the new shelves, when somebody tapped you on the shoulder and made you jump…probably more dramatically than you needed to.

You dropped the two books that were in your hands at the time, and yelped, “I’m sorry! What did you need—?”

Your sentence was cut off as you caught sight of the boy’s face, and the words evaporated from your tongue. He had curly, chocolate-brown hair and warm, wide eyes that were currently filled with concern and shock…at your surprise, probably.

But he was extraordinarily pretty, and you found yourself looking away, leaning down to pick up the books you’d dropped. You cleared your throat, “I’m sorry, what did you need help with?”

“Uhh,” He seemed to be almost at a lost for words as he glanced at you, suddenly nervous, “I was looking for some books for my science project? I wasn’t sure where I should start…”

You smiled, and he blushed, and you gestured for him to follow you. It was rare that a high school kid came in looking for books about science—didn’t most people just find things online nowadays for school assignments?—nevertheless, you decided this boy was far too precious to just refer him to online.Especially not when this bookstore had such a great range of science books; while you loved your fiction, the science was your second favourite.

As you approached the wall, even the boy seemed to be kind of in a sense of awe. You began to talk, hiding your amusement at his amazement. “This is the science wall! It’s my second favourite section, and it’s got basically everything.” You pointed to the said areas as you explained, “They’re organised by subtopics, so you’ve got bio here, and then physics, chem, and so on.”

“What would you recommend for a physics assignment?”

You gave him a curious look, “Well, the ones with the green spines are really detailed,” you started, even though you weren’t quite sure exactly what he was looking for. “If you’re into more basic stuff, the ones on the very left of the shelf, and the more complex stuff is to the right.”

He was quiet for a long moment after you finished. You weren’t sure if he was soaking up the information or just blanked out. Regardless, it left you standing there half-smiling, basking in the awkwardness.It was almost twenty seconds later that the boy seemed to remember that you were waiting for his response, and he immediately flushed, “I’m so sorry, thanks for taking me here—um, sorry, I didn’t get your name…”

“It’s Y/N,” You responded, pointing at the name tag that was pinned onto your lanyard, “And yours?”

“Peter,” He responded shyly, running a hand nervously through his curls, “What school do you go to? I don’t think I’ve seen you around on campus.”

“I go to Y/S/N,” You explained, sheepish, even though you weren’t sure why you were so nervous, and why your palms were sweating, “It’s a girls’ private school, which is probably why you don’t see me at school.” You laughed off your nerves, even though you felt heat begin to crawl through your cheeks.

Peter seemed to deflate a bit, the smile fading from his eyes, “Well, then, I won’t be able to see you. I was hoping you went to my school…”

“Guess you’ll have to come ‘round to the bookstore more often, then,” You said teasingly, “To get your books for your smart-kid assignments. Assessments are mostly over now anyway—except for at Midtown, I hear. Is that where you go?”

He nodded in answer, giving a small smile, even as his eyes turned and became glued to the books on the shelves. He scanned through the titles and asked absently, “What gave it away?”

“You’re looking for science books, Peter,” You said with a small giggle, “Isn’t Midtown a STEM school? I just assumed.”

“Y/N!” Jane called from the front of the shop, and you immediately perked up, your conversation interrupted.Peter sighed, even though he diligently kept the kind smile on his lips, “Well, I guess duty calls, huh?”

You nodded, pressing your lips into a taut smile, a bit disappointed as well, that you had to go now. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“You bet you will,” He said, giving a grin, “I’ll be sure to come whenever I can to get your expertise on science-y books for my smart-kid assignments.”

You almost choked on a laugh as you tried to swallow it, “Good luck with your assessment! And the science books!”

***

Peter kept true to his word.

That boy seemed to make it his mission to show up every day, and talk to you all about your recommendations and his science assignments. Not that you minded—it was kind of cute, what with how enthusiastic he got when he was rambling.

Today, though, Peter was late. School ended two hours ago, and still. No sign of him. Usually he would’ve been here almost at the same time as you, since he’d taken to doing all of his homework in the shop.

Despite how hard you tried to not let it distract you, you really couldn’t help the glances you kept throwing over your shoulder at the door, to check for any sign of him. To be honest, you weren’t quite sure why you anticipated his arrival so much, seeing as he probably had his own work to do, but still…You did your job fine; you made sure to put all of the new arrivals in alphabetical order and unbox all of the stock for the week, but even Jane noticed that you weren’t as focused as usual. And from the knowing gleam in her eyes, she knew exactly why you looked so much more worried and tense than usual.

“Y/N, are you waiting for that brown-haired boy?” She called out, her chin leaning on her palm and looking quite amused.

You fumbled with the stack of books you were holding and said, suddenly flustered, “No, no I’m not,” You denied, even though your words were broken by a nervous stutter.Internally, you swore in frustration at yourself because why were you suddenly so nervous? Jane hadn’t even said anything, really, but—

“Then why do you keep looking out the window? I know that the boy comes every time that you’re here. We all fall in love at some point,” Jane said, her tone turning into a teasing one.

Fall in love?

“Oh, I’m not in love with him—I’m just—I just,” You stammered feebly, “I just like looking at the window display.”

Jane hummed, finally turning her gaze away to return to clicking away at her computer, probably filing in orders. “Sure thing.” Even though her stare had shifted from you, her knowing smile hadn’t faded and you bit your lip in embarrassment before returning to sorting the books.

You weren’t in love with Peter, you barely even knew him! It wasn’t like that—

“Sorry I’m late!”

And yet at the first sound of his voice you stopped everything that you were doing and spun around so fast your hair gave you whiplash.

“Y/N!” He called, his hair mussed by the wind, eyes wide. He was holding his bag, seeming to still be stuffing something into the back pocket of it, and he seemed extremely puffed.

“Peter,” You said, furrowing your brows, “You didn’t have to rush. If you were busy you could’ve just sent me a text.”

As if by instinct he reached into his back pocket for his phone as you mentioned texting, and he pulled it out as he responded, “I’m sorry, something came up that I had to take care of. It’s all good now, though! What new books arrived this week?”

Even though internally, you were still concerned for his well-being, since he looked so genuinely out-of-breath, but the fact that he’d rushed over to talk to you today was kind of…touching. Cute.

You brushed those thoughts away, though, effectively stopping the blush you felt beginning to form on the apples of your cheeks, “We got lots of fiction this week, actually. There’s some sci-fi I think you would like. Is your assignment finished now?”

Peter rubbed his neck almost shyly, “Oh, yeah, it was due today, actually. Thanks for all your help, I think I did better than usual.”

“It’s nothing,” You replied, giving him a smile, quickly turning to finish sorting out the last couple books, and then leading him to the fiction section. He eagerly followed.

“Do you read fiction much?” You decided to ask him, breaking the silence that had settled between the two of you.

“Sometimes,” He said, “I get pretty busy, though, so I don’t usually have a lot of time to read. I wish I did.”

You approached the fiction shelves and ran your hand over the spines, searching for the new arrivals you wanted to recommend to him, “Here,” You pulled the first out, then the second.

“These are really good, I read them yesterday,” You told him, passing the two to him, and he flipped through them curiously, “They’re about the stuff you’re into. Like, science-y, smart superhero, space-battle type stuff.”

His eyes lit up as he scanned through, murmuring absently, “I love that stuff! I can kinda relate to them.”

That piqued your curiosity, and you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “What do you mean?”“Huh?”“What do you mean you can relate?”

Suddenly, Peter bit his lip and ran a hand nervously through his hair, “Oh, what, I said that? Uh, I just mean I relate to the struggles of the superheroes, you know? It’s kind of…inspirational.”

You considered his words, “You’re right. We do have a lot of superheroes around here, don’t we?” You chuckled a bit to yourself, averting your eyes because his gaze had become far too intense and focused for you to maintain the eye-contact whilst keeping your heart rate at a healthy pace.

“What do you think of them?” He asked, tucking the two books under his arm, seeming satisfied with your selection, “The superheroes, I mean.”

“They’re cool,” You said with a shrug, “They do cool things and they’re important. I kind of wanna be one,” You laughed lightly, “They actually make a difference, you know? I kind of just hang around here and just…” You trailed off, unsure of where you were going, but Peter seemed to understand.

Your eyes were fixated on your feet now, and you shifted on your feet when he didn’t say anything.Then, suddenly, he poked your cheek gently, making you look up at him, and then he said, “You don’t need to be a superhero to make a difference, Y/N.” He leaned in a bit closer and tilted your chin up with two fingers.

Oh gosh oh he was so close now you could see every shade in his eyes—

You hoped he couldn’t hear your heartbeat, but you swore you noted his ears tinge with pink ever so slightly as well when he whispered, “You’re pretty amazing already, I can tell you that.”

“I—Peter, I—,”

“Right,” Suddenly extremely shy, he quickly pulled away. Okay, his face was definitely burning bright red now, you were sure of it, “Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—,”

“Peter,” You said softly, taking his hand gently in yours, “I wasn’t uncomfortable, I just…” You shook your head, “Never mind. But, thank you, Peter.”

“It’s just the truth,” He said, meeting your eyes with his own.

You weren’t sure what exactly gave you the confidence to do it, but with a light laugh you leant up on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you. You’re pretty amazing too, Peter.”He seemed to be at a loss for words. His cheeks were bright pink and his mouth opened and closed as he searched for the right thing to say. He looked so pretty.

“I-uh,” You bit your lip nervously—shyly, “Are you gonna get the books?”

That shook him out of his trance and he stammered, “Oh, yeah, I will, sorry—,”

“It’s okay,” You laughed, too giddy with the butterflies in your stomach to be nervous about what you’d just done anymore.

After he checked out, you said, “Call me and tell me what you think about those books, okay?”He left with a nod and a beaming smile, and Jane gave you that knowing look again.

“You just like looking at the window display, huh?” She said after the door shut behind him.You half-groaned, half-laughed as you shook your head and began heading back into the depths of the store to keep sorting the stock.

But you couldn’t help the grin of pure joy that formed on your lips the moment you were out of plain sight.

***

Tony didn’t usually pick Peter up, but today he’d been near the store anyway, so he offered to take him to the tower.The moment he got on the car, though, Tony noted his love-struck, dazed expression and said, “So, who’s the lucky person who’s snagged Peter Parker’s eye, huh?”He started up the car, which luckily pulled his gaze away from Peter, because the boy blushed furiously at Tony’s words.

“Uh, Mr. Stark, it’s nothing,” He said, shaking his head, “I just got some books that I like, that’s all—,” he pulled the two books he’d bought out of his bag, and Tony glanced at them.

“Since when did you read fiction?Peter fumbled for an excuse, “Uh, since today?”Tony scoffed in amusement, teasingly saying, “Must be some good books to have you looking so in love.”

Peter didn’t have any reply, or excuse, to respond with because he was really, really bad at lying and he knew that Tony already knew, anyway.“Yeah, they’re pretty amazing books,” He said instead.

Tony didn’t push any further, because it was just too cute.

He smiled fondly.

193 notes · View notes

quicksiilver · 4 years ago

Text

In My Fathers Eyes

All Parts: Here

On AO3: Here

Part Nine: Second World

Word Count: 5.2k

Chapter Summary: A week has passed at the Compound. Rachel's been training with Natasha every day, and tonight she meets with Bruce to go under and walk through her memory again. Just like a glitch, she's taken elsewhere, and a new player enters the game.

A/N: Apologies for taking a bit to update. Enjoy this new face we’re meeting!

“And that was the last time he talked to me,” I said through my heavy breaths. Natasha threw a couple punches my way. I dodged half of them, then spun around catching her off guard with a kick from behind. She barely stumbled, and quickly got me back by taking out one of my knees.

“The night you made out on Tony’s car,” She said, fists at the ready. Back on my feet we went a few more rounds, only stopping when I caught her arms under mine pulling her into me. I sighed, rolling my eyes.

“Yes,” I said.

“Wait, you guys made out?!” Wanda shouted from the corner she sat in, almost spitting out the water she held in her mouth. My eyes stayed on Natasha. From getting knocked down that first day with the mention of Peter’s name, I didn’t let anything steal my attention. We’ve been training everyday, and to my surprise I’ve only gotten stronger. Fatigue never got the best of me, it hadn’t even come up. I started with Natasha a week ago, and since then she’s told me my strength has grown faster than anyone she’s trained with. Even Wanda didn’t get this strong in a week.

“Yeah,” I groaned, answering Wanda, taking Natasha to the ground with my knees around her waist. She tried to flip me, but I held her down. My hair was all in my face, stuck to my forehead, and flipped ridiculously around. I had it up, but through the past two hours there was no point in fixing it.

“Okay, get off of me,” Natasha smiled, defeated. Letting go of her arms I stood up. Taking a few steps backwards I slumped over making them laugh.

“You never said you guys kissed, I just thought you snuck out,” Wanda tossed me a water bottle. Taking a long sip, I nodded and rolled my eyes again.

“We did,” I said, “And he hasn’t talked to me.”

“There is a lot going on,” Natasha said solemnly, “I know he did a lot of work Thursday night.” Wanda motioned for me to come sit next to her, so I plopped myself down beside her and in front of Natasha. Steve was in here with Bucky, the two of them lifting weights across the room after their run they always took together. I watched Bucky as he only lifted with his one arm, the silver one behind his back.

“We saw each other the next day, in the hallway. I was on my way to come here, and he was going into his room. He didn’t even turn around,” I said. Wanda pouted, giving Natasha a look.

“It doesn’t matter,” I sighed, “There’s a lot going on, right?” I repeated Natashas words, raising my eyebrows. I did hear that Peter was out almost all day, and night, on Thursday. It didn’t make me feel any better because we had the chance to talk on Wednesday. We had the chance to talk on Friday when he was leaving the kitchen as I was coming in with Thor. He didn’t seem to be making an effort to pay attention to me anymore. Saturday, yesterday, I saw him with Tony outside when I peeked out my window after a shower.

“I’m not here to make friends, I have a job to do, right?” I asked them. Screwing their faces into confusion they looked at me, and spoke with offense.

“What are we then?!” Natasha spoke harshly before laughing. Wanda laughed with her, shaking her head at me.

“You’re one of us now, you’ve joined the lady Avenger alliance,” Wanda spoke regally, lifting her bottle of water, getting me to join in on their laughter. Natasha reached toward me placing a hand on my knee giving it a shake.

“Boys are gross, anyway,” She scrunched her nose, “Especially teenage ones.” I copied her look, and then smiled.

“Aren’t you and Bruce together?” I asked. Wanda almost choked on her water again.

“Ugh,” Natasha groaned, tilting her head back, “I try.”

“She loves him,” Wanda teased.

“Do not,” Natasha shot back. They bickered like children, my eyes shooting back and forth between them.

“Speaking of Bruce, aren’t you working with him later?” Wanda asked. I sat up straight, panic shooting into my stomach.

“Oh shit, what time is it?” I mumbled, jumping to my feet looking around for my phone. Wanda handed it over to me, she was the keeper of it while I fought. The clock read four thirteen.

“Oh man,” I said, turning to the girls on the floor, “I gotta go, I’m supposed to be with him at five.” They waved me off, telling me to have a good night. Natasha sarcastically warned me that if I brought up our conversation, she’d kick my ass the next time we trained.

Jumping out of the rink I started for the doors passing Bucky and Steve who said hi to me. Bucky gave me a smile with a nod of his head. He was always so charming, it almost made me blush. Before I reached the door it was pulled open by Peter. He didn’t see me at first until he was a few steps in, and when he looked at me we both slowed down. We passed by one another without saying a word, just a glance, but as I stepped out the door I swore I still felt his eyes on me.

After a speedy shower I rode the elevator down to Bruce on the floor now deemed as the Science Fair by Natasha and I. He turned as I came toward him, and gave me a smile.

“Hey, Rachel,” He said, his voice always calm and soothing, “You up for this again?” The two white earbuds were in his hand that he held out for me to take. Taking a deep breath, I smiled.

“I have to be,” I popped the earbuds in my ears, and sat down on the chair beside Bruce. Closing my eyes, I took a second deep breath, and prepared for the feeling to hit me. The first time we did this I had Peter here, and he helped me through it. Without him now I was taking this on alone, with only Bruce here to talk to me. I was used to doing most things alone anyway, so swallowing the fear of the emptiness that was about to swallow me, I sat up tall and listened to Bruce help transition me into the darkness.

Tony and Peter were working together in a room on the floor below the science fair. Papers were scattered around the large circle of a table as were folders, binders and boxes of files. When there was no other work to be done, Peter could be found here helping Tony keep things in order. Every sheet of paper held information to all the endeavors the Avengers found themselves in.

The side of Tony not many people outside the team got to see, the anxiety that riddled him and kept him up at night, it used to confine him to this room especially after the Sokovia Accords were signed. He didn’t want to lose an ounce of control. He had tabs on every Avenger and every word they spoke to the public. Any fight, or battle someone went through, it was on paper. He always had a plan, because he knew everything. Keeping Peter close by he recruited him to help keep this room in order, thus giving Peter access to the info on every Avenger in this building.

Sitting here tonight they were quiet, barely any words shared between them. Peter stacked a pile of papers with intel of the Space Stone together and slipped them in a folder with a label indicating its association with the stone, then turned to look at Tony pacing the room, tapping his chin with a pen.

“Mr. Stark?” He asked, his voice just above a whisper. Tony slowed his walk, looking at Peter with just his eyes, wearing his usual quizzing expression. It was Peter’s signal to keep talking, but to also be weary of what he was going to say. While Peter knew what to expect, sometimes he wasn't ready for it. Peter hesitated, but found the courage to speak up.

“I know... I know you don’t want me talking to her,” He said, Tony cut him off.

“We’re not discussing this,” He stated, turning away, picking up his pace to where he left off. Sighing, Peter sat back in the chair he was sitting on.

“Don’t get pissy,” Tony pulled a look of disgust, “You don’t know her.”

“Neither do you,” Peter mumbled, his eyes focusing on his hands on his lap.

“I think I know enough,” Tony said, stopping, resting his hands on the table leaning into them, “I know who her father is,” You’d think his words were hurting him with the way he spoke, “I saw the aliens coming out of the hole in the sky, and you know what that did to me.” Tony paused, his eyes glued to the boy across from him. Peter didn’t bother to look up.

“I was chill when I met her, I was chill driving her here, I was chill bringing her in when she met all of us. She’s shown me twice now that he is in there. In her,” He paused, reading Peter to see what reaction he was getting from him, hoping his words were doing enough to turn him off, “We talked about what you did Tuesday night. It was wrong, it was so wrong. You’re a good kid, I do not need you screwing up how great you’ve been here.”

“For you,” Peter said, finally lifting his chin, “You don’t want me screwing it up for you.” Tony scoffed, eyes rolling, and raised his voice.

“You guys don’t work!” His voice harsh, “You’ll never work! You’re one of the good guys, and she’s an inexperienced child of a goddamn villain.” Peter bit his tongue, knowing if he said what he wanted to say it would come back to bite him in the ass. He knew Loki was no villain. Sending aliens from space under the influence of a persuasive mind stone could happen to anyone of them, it just so happened to be Loki. He didn’t do it voluntarily.

“What do you think’s gonna happen when he comes?” Tony's voice now condescending, “When she meets him? Her only family she has? She’ll probably want to go with him, and that gives him more power because she’s growing stronger than any one of us has, fast.” His last words caught Peter’s interest.

“She is?” He asked, and Tony nodded, still wearing his serious expression.

“She is. It’s weird,” Tony said making Peter laugh under his breath.

“Is it?” He asked, “Her dad isn’t human, he’s a God… made of ice.” Tony straightened himself out, removing his hands from the table, and eyed Peter curiously.

“Maybe it’s a bad idea having you in here,” He motioned around to the clutter, “You have too good of a memory, and I think it’ll come get you one day.” Peter gave him a weak smile, Tony’s warm-hearted sarcasm making him feel something he hadn’t in a while. Before he could enjoy it too much, Stark pointed a finger at him.

“We already had this conversation. You aren’t going to get any closer to her, got it?” He waited for Peter’s head to nod, “Good,” He went to turn around, but hesitated. Peter watched him, the two keeping their eyes locked.

“I do need to know, though,” Tony said, Peter groaning audibly, “What do you want with her? You wanna date her? You want a friend? You want to sleep with her?”

“No, Mr. Stark,” Peter sprung forward, waving a hand around trying to shut him up.

“Because I know you’re here a lot, alone, and there really isn’t anyone for you to-”

“Stop! Please!” Peter started to laugh, cringing hard. Tony smiled, happy to have a moment with Peter that wasn’t about work, or anger related. He knew he hadn’t been the best person toward Peter in the past few weeks, or maybe months. He knew Peter needed a friend, but he for sure thought he was still getting together with his friends from high school.

With the way he would watch him mope around the compound, and keep to himself, Tony knew that he was going through a low. Bringing Rachel here was sprung on Tony, he didn’t think they’d be able to track her down. Since then she’s begun to lose his trust, and even though Peter needed someone to fill the space he was leaving him in, he didn’t want it to be her. Before he could crack another joke for the kid, Friday chimed into the conversation.

“Mr. Stark, there’s an urgent call coming in for you,” She said. Peter sat up, tilting his head, and furrowing his brows. Tony met him with the same exact look.

“Tony!” It was Bruce, “You gotta get in here, man.” He sounded like he was in a panic.

“What? What happened?” Tony asked, trying to stay calm, “Aren’t you with Rachel?”

“Yeah,” His voice shook. From the background there was a glass shattering scream, and a muffled voice following it that was shouting something unintelligible. Peter leapt to his feet, actually, leapt on top of the table effortlessly, ready to run across it to get upstairs.

“I don’t know what to do,” Bruce said, “I’m at a loss, and I can feel the other guy ready to make an appearance.”

“No, no, no,” Peter mumbled quickly, snapping his metal band around his wrist that he fished out of his pocket the second Bruce’s voice came through Friday.

“I’m coming, try to stay calm,” Tony said, “Kid, stay here.” He gestured for Peter to sit down. Peter stared at him in disbelief, and as Tony waited for a second to make sure he was going to listen, Peter shot a web to the doorknob pulling it open. Before Tony could even say another word, Peter had another web shot outside the door taking himself with it.

Like riding a rollercoaster, I was being tossed around, and rushed through the air surrounded by bright, glistening, blinding colors. I had lost Bruce’s voice. We were in the middle of walking through a memory of my mother and I drawing with crayons at my kitchen table when I was pulled away from it suddenly, and thrown into this force that felt like it was pulling me somewhere. I had made attempts to grab onto something, or say something to Bruce, but whatever was happening to me prohibited that.

I was told these things in my ears would take me into my memory, dig deep into my subconscious, and bring things up that had been pushed away and covered up. What I was experiencing right now wasn’t a memory. It wasn’t even a thought. Being whisked through a forcefield of rainbow energy at a speed faster than I’d ever felt wasn’t a situation I’d ever think I’d be in. Even an eight year olds imagination couldn’t think something up like this.

In an instant, as fast as I was sucked into this, I was pulled out. I stumbled on my feet, catching myself before I fell over. Looking around at the beautifully marbled floor, my eyes followed the path I was standing on to the staircase at the end of it. The air around me was warm, and the air was crisp. Everything seemed fresh, and brand new. I certainly felt out of place with how royal this all seemed, and I couldn’t help but wonder why I was brought here.

There were sounds of birds chirping, and bustling life outside of where I was, but inside this huge ballroom it was just quiet. There hadn’t ever been a vision of this place inside my head. No place this regal could possibly come from me, my brain was more interested in the dark, and the mysteries.

“Rachel,” A deep voice graveled from the stairs. After finishing the circle I was spinning in to gawk at the details of paintings on the ceiling, I turned toward it to find a throne with a man sitting on it. He was young, it seemed, with ashy brown hair down to his shoulders. Dressed in long sleeved dark robes, pulled together at the waist with a leather belt, he stood up from his slumped over lounge and started down the stairs. His shoes clicked on the marble with every step he took.

“You can see me?” I asked, a little surprised. I’ve only done this memory thing twice, but when I was inside one nobody could physically see me. I would only go through the motions of myself in that memory, but my outside body was never a part of the scene. The man lowered his chin, with a smize. His eyes studied me as he descended from the stairs meeting me by my side.

“Of course I can see you,” He said. His voice was beautiful, smooth, and had a hint of my uncle's accent inside it. It seemed to be mixed with more, but I didn’t know much about outside worlds, or what people sounded like from Thor’s world.

“How?” I asked.

“Who do you think brought you here?” He asked back, his head cocking to the side in sarcasm. He still wore his smize, turning it into more of a smile now. He was absolutely stunning. His eyes were a hazel green, and they were sharp, and seemed full of wisdom. The curve of his nose was not even a curve at all, it sloped perfectly straight, leading your eyes to his full lips that were encompassed with perfectly taken care of scruff. His jaw appeared to be sharper than his eyes, and his hair hung below it in waves. I had never seen someone so beautiful, I was a little intimidated.

“You… You brought me here?” I asked quietly, “How?” I repeated myself.

“Your Avengers haven’t been careful,” He sighed, turning his chin to gaze out the window. I would’ve done it too, but I was too busy gazing at him.

“What?” My voice was at a whisper. He turned back to me.

“My apologies, let me start over,” He said, “I am Rune, of Asgard.”

“Shut up,” I said turning over my shoulder, looking all around the place again. Hurrying over to an opening onto the balcony, I nearly flung myself against the sculpted railing to look out upon the surreal world below me. My heart pounded in my chest, and my hands began to shake as the excitement, and pure shock, grew within me. Asgard was a princess fairytale on steroids, and apparently so were the people that lived here. Families were walking along the streets, and children could be heard laughing. Flowers were, well, everywhere, and past the royally constructed buildings and homes was a forest full of the greenest trees I’ve seen.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Rune said, leaning against the barrier with me. Not taking my eyes off the insane beauty of Asgard, I nodded. He smiled, giving me a small laugh.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” I whispered.

“Did anyone have an intention of bringing you here?” Rune asked. Glancing to him once before looking back out to the horizon I shook my head.

“It hadn’t been discussed yet,” I said. My brain processed what we’d just said, making me look at him in confusion.

“I know, I know,” He laughed again.

“Do you know Thor?” I asked, my tone building my guard back up.

“I do,” Rune nodded.

“Am I related to you, too?” I asked.

“No, I certainly would hope not,” His voice lowered as his eyes narrowed, giving me a feeling I always tried my best to avoid. Clenching my jaw, I nodded as an answer, and looked away from him.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“Like I said before, your Avengers haven’t been too careful,” He spoke with disappointment, but it was almost sarcastic, as if he was expecting this.

“What are you talking about?” Whipping my head toward him, I spoke in offense. The Avengers were taking perfect care of me. I had a place to live that wasn’t close to evicting me when rent was due, I had delicious food to eat whenever I wanted it, and I had finally found a piece of family I had gone my entire life without. Natasha and Wanda were training me to be strong, and teaching me how to protect myself when I was going to need it. I had friends other than Shaun, who I hadn’t talked to in an entire day, and they genuinely cared about me. Rune’s eyes studied me again, like he was collecting information from every move I made.

“They’re trying to keep you hidden from us,” He spoke carefully.

“Yeah,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes, “Sure they are. My uncle is from here, why would he hide me from it?” Rune’s expression didn’t falter.

“I know you’ve heard the stories of Thor and his brother, haven’t you?” He paused, “The stories of your father?” My stomach twisted, and a small chill rolled over me. It was one thing to talk about him with a member of the team, but to hear it from a stranger was enough to make me feel sick. My father was an enemy of Asgard at a certain point in time. He faced scrutiny, and was thrown into a dungeon. He had lost everyones trust, even his brother’s. Thor had told me things were better now, but standing here with Rune having the knowledge of who my father was, I wanted to sink into my shoes through the floor. Keeping the worry inside of me, I pressed my lips together and gave him a nod.

“I know it all,” I said confidently.

“Then you know they’re only keeping you to use you,” He said, my stomach taking another twist, “They only need you to get to Loki.” Swallowing hard, my worry was about to bubble over my composed exterior. The sound of his name still threw me for a spin.

“You’re crazy,” I mumbled, resting my elbows on top of the marble in front of me, shaking my head in disbelief, “That is so far from the truth. They’re seeing all of this happen right now, I hope you know. I have no idea how you got me here, but they’re watching this, and they’re going to hear everything you’re telling me.” Rune laughed, laying a hand to his chest. I glanced at him, confused.

“Oh, sweet girl,” He said, giving me an ick, “They can’t hear a thing. They can’t see us either, because guess what? I know how to hide things, too.” Giving him a look of disgust, he simply smiled back.

“Your father has betrayed your uncle once again. That’s why your world and ours are in despair. You see the extraordinary life down there?” He gestured out to Asgard, “Your father wants to watch it burn. Things haven’t changed. He’s still pure scum.” “Liar!” I shouted, rage beginning to swell in my heart. Pushing away from the railing I took a few steps back and glared at him. We stared each other down, his movement still giving me the impression he was trying to figure me out. It reminded me of how Tony acted around me, but Rune wasn’t afraid. It’s almost as if he wanted me to act out.

“Don’t speak like that about him,” I said through my teeth. Rune rested his back on the marble, folding his hands in front of him, watching me almost lose myself, “None of you know what he’s been through, none of you know how he feels.”

“And you do?” He asked with a gesture of his head toward me. I hesitated for a second, now knowing he knew I never met him before.

“I do,” I said strongly, fists clenching over my thumbs. Rune’s eyes flickered to them, then back to my eyes.

“Let me help you,” He said, raising a hand to tell me to calm down.

“Why would I do that? You just called my father scum!” I laughed, annoyed. Rune smirked.

“I’m on your side, that’s just what people call him. I know where he is,” His voice was hushed, and he started to walk toward me, “He’s in hiding, much like we are now. I have some idea of how to get him to come back, and how to stop him from destroying worlds,” He stopped, then pointed at me, “Then you come along, I find you through the Avengers who I’ve been watching, and I realize you’re going to be what stops him.” I waited for him to go on, but he expected me to answer.

“Why are you watching the Avengers? How are you watching the Avengers?” I asked, my eyes still angry.

“I’m watching them because they want to take your father down, and I needed to be sure they weren’t going to do that. I use the bifrost,” He said.

“Thor said Heimdall doesn’t let anyone control the bifrost.”

“Like I said, I know how to hide things,” He winked, and as much as I wanted to feel the ick again, his alluring eyes made it too hard, “Help me. Help me save your father, Rachel.” He held out an open hand, like he wanted me to take it. Looking down at it I felt nervous, unlike I did with Peter. I wanted to grab Peter’s hand, and squeeze it, and not let it go. Rune’s hand was intimidating, and seemed too strong. Rune was also an Asgardian, a strong being that descended from gods. I didn’t even have an idea of how old he was, and as Thor described it, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. He did have this mysterious facade about him, I could feel how much of a passionate person he was, it was nearly overwhelming how deep his energy felt. The way he was watching me was dangerous, and I mean dangerous for my feelings.

“Do you want him to be safe, or not?” Rune asked. Looking from his hand to his glistening eyes, I sighed, and I quickly took his hand. Shaking it once, I dropped it, and I watched as his eyes trickled down my body to my feet before looking back at me. Insecurity wanted me to retreat, but judging by his intrigue there didn’t need to be any worry.

“What do I do?” I asked fast, switching the energy before anything else happened. Rune bit the tip of his tongue, letting a smile grow.

“Out there? With the Avengers? Nothing,” He said, then tapped his chest, “With me? Everything.” Taking a deep breath a wave of adrenaline washed over me. His tone was hinting toward mischief, and it sparked more of interest within me. While this was so much bigger than breaking a tiny rule at the Compound, the last time I felt this exact feeling was with Peter when he agreed to get into Tony’s car.

“What’s the matter?” Rune asked. I assumed my expression had faltered at the thought of last week.

“Nothing,” I sighed, shaking it away. Rune lifted his chin a bit, looking down at me, much like Peter’s signature move. Squishing my eyebrows together, I stared at him and tried to get Peter out of my head. After a minute, he straightened out and I relaxed.

“Very well then,” He said, “These moments stay between us. While your physical body is still on Midgard, your subconscious is here. I’m sending you back, but I’ll be putting you through a horrific memory to protect your time here from being broken into. My apologies.” Rune reached out for my hand, and when they touched I was sent spinning through the colorful flashes again. When I fell back into reality, I could feel how sweaty my body had become. I was gasping for air more than I was the first time going under. My muscles ached, and I knew it was from this. Everyone knew by now I didn’t get sore from training.

“Rachel!” Bruce shouted, seeming relieved. My sight was blurry, and the room was spinning. Fighting to grab onto something I tried to stand up, but I fell straight for the floor, slipping off the chair before I even got up to my feet.

“Whoa!” I heard Peter’s voice shout, and he caught me, putting me back on the chair.

“What happened? What’d she do?” Tony’s voice was the next one I heard, and I made out his shape as he came next to Bruce messing with screens in front of him.

“She got sucked into something… I couldn’t see anything. I fought to get her back, but then she started to… freak out!” Bruce’s voice was shaky.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked quietly, still holding onto me. My dizziness started to fade, and as soon as I could make out where he was I swatted at him to get away.

“Whoa!” He said again, letting me go. Ignoring him, I placed a hand to my forehead and laid back in the chair.

“Kid, what do you remember?” Tony asked, looking over at me. Squinting to try to look at him clearer, I shrugged, “Seriously?” He mumbled.

“I don’t know!” I said, raising my voice, “It was all… fuzzy. Then I was thrown through the day my mom died,” My own words stung, “The day I came home from school. Found her on the kitchen floor. Called nine-one-one, and had a meltdown beside her,” The room was quiet, except for Tony clicking away.

“Right,” He muttered.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter began.

“Shut it, Parker,” Tony warned. I didn’t even want him here. Peter was ignoring me all week over that night at the airport, after we shared our trauma with each other, after we both grew a pair and finally kissed, and here he was just to watch me be sad again. I lived my life on my own for a reason. I was not going to let him get in the way of it.

“Banner, I can’t think of what to do. I’m going to need time to dissect this,” Tony said to Bruce, “Rachel, you can go,” He waved me off, “Peter, get back to work.” Following my orders, I steadied myself on my feet. Reliving the memory I had just seen, I felt the urge to cry. Not needing Peter, or the other two to watch me do it, I left and went off to my room ready to get Shaun on the phone.

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