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j-j-ehlby-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Almost (c.e.)

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Word Count: ~5.9k

Summary: You and Chris were set up on a blind date by your mutual friends. Sparks flew, but you never heard from him again. Two years later, you come face-to-face with him once more for their friends wedding.

Warnings: Some angst, swearing, not much else

A/N: This is a mixture of the movie “Life as We Know It” (mmm Daddy Josh Duhamel 🤤), a dating experience I had, and one scene from One Tree Hill. Enjoy.

My Masterlist

Two years ago…

My heart is pounding all the way to my ears. My hands are shaking under the table. My knee bounces uncontrollably as I wait.

I knew this was a bad idea. Why did I let her convince me to do this?

“You haven’t had a boyfriend for as long as I’ve known you.” My best friend so pointedly mentioned when we were out to lunch last week.

“What’s wrong with that?” I counter.

“I’ve known you for three and a half years.” She deadpans. Even without looking at her, I know she has her eyebrow raised at me and her lips are pursed.

“Your point?” I know she thinks my serious lack of companionship these past few years is wearing on me, but it’s been quite the opposite. Not being attached is freeing. I can do what I want when I want; I don’t have anyone to answer to. If I want to sleep until 3 on a Saturday, I’m going to do it. If I don’t want to socialize with anyone, I won’t. If I want to take a spontaneous road trip, I’m going to do it. My life is my own and that’s how I like it.

“I want my best friend to have someone to experience life with.”

My shoulders dropped, sighing in defeat. There was no way I was getting out of this conversation.

“I want you to be as happy as I am.” I see the love in her eyes as her mind goes to her boyfriend and their new relationship. They’ve only been together for a few months, but I know that this is it for her. She’s a smitten kitten and he is equally as infatuated with her. They’re sickeningly cute. “Which is why I think you need to meet one of his friends-”

“Lemme stop you right there,” I interrupt her, “I hate blind dates.”

“You’ve never been on one.”

“And there’s a reason for that.” She rolled her eyes at me. “They’re cliché, they’re awkward for both parties, and they never amount to anything, thus being a total waste of time.”

She sighed, “Ever the skeptic.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

“Regardless,” she continues, “I think you’ll really like this guy. He’s already expressed interest in you.”

Like that makes everything better. “Great so now I have to live up to his impossible expectations of me when I know absolutely nothing about him.” As if the idea of a blind date wasn’t bad enough, now it’s only a semi-blind date. There’s no doubt in my mind that she has hyped me up impossibly high, that’s what a best friend is for. However, when your confidence level is next to none and already skeptical of the pending meeting, there’s no way he’ll like who I am in reality.

“I can tell you anything you want to know about him.” She is bargaining with me. She really wants me to meet this guy. She wouldn’t be trying this hard if she didn’t believe we would hit it off.

“Well is he nice?” This was the only real question I had. If he isn’t kind then there’s really no future.

“Incredibly!” She continues to tell me of the many things he has done for a charity he started a few years ago and slowly but surely she was starting to convince me. If he was that generous then he has to have a good heart and therefore is a good man.

How bad could it be?

I check my phone, glancing at the time. Great, he’s late. That can’t be a good start.

Numerous reasons why popped into my head.

Reason one: he saw me and bolted.

Reason two: he got into an accident on the way here and he could be in the hospital.

Reason three: he changed his mind and decided to stand me up.

More and more played through my head as I sipped my drink.

By the time I was on my second drink, I was convinced he wasn’t showing up. I knew this was a ridiculous idea. I knew I shouldn’t have done this. I never should have listened to her.

I chugged the rest of my drink followed by some water before standing up to leave some cash. I was slightly humiliated for actually thinking this would be any different than all of my expectations.

My shoulder rammed into another as I turned to leave.

“Oh my, God, I’m so sorry!” A hand steadied me, gently grabbing the shoulder he ran into. “Are you okay?”

“My already small ego is a little bruised, but I think I’ll live.” I looked up to meet my assaulter’s eyes and immediately I froze.

Holy shit, it’s Chris Evans.

His piercing blue eyes were staring right at me, his concern was directed towards me. In all of his charming, ray of sunshine, bearded glory, he was here.

“I’m so sorry that I’m late. Traffic was insane over the bridge. I would have called but I don’t have your number.” He half-smirked but not in a cocky way. I’d seen him do it in interviews before. He could have come up with a lame excuse, but somehow I knew he was telling the truth.

“No, it’s okay. I understand completely.”

He sighed in relief, his gorgeous and perfect smile taking over his features. He looked down at the table and it disappeared. “Were you leaving?”

“Uh,” I stammered, “I was because I thought I was being stood up.”

“I feel awful. Please let me make it up to you. Let’s sit down, have a nice dinner, and get to know each other.”

I hesitate, now even more nervous than I was before.

As if sensing my hesitation, he decided to sweeten the pot a bit to persuade me, “We can even get dessert.”

I chuckle at his attempt. That’ll do it though. I sit back down with him following suit, finally starting our date.

We talked about everything. Anything and everything. No topic was off limits. Hours went by but it felt like minutes. We didn’t even know how long we’d been there until our waiter came to tell us that the restaurant was closed. We left and walked around the city until the night sky was giving way to the morning. He accompanied me back to my car, gave me the best hug I’ve ever received and a kiss on the cheek, promising we’ll get together again soon, and opening and closing my car door for me. I drove away with the biggest smile on my face and literal butterflies in my stomach. That was the best date I’d ever been on.

When I made it back to my apartment with the early morning rays peeking through my shades, I had a text message waiting for me from him. Just a simple good night, he had had an amazing time, and he couldn’t wait to see me again.

I fell asleep, hopeful. Hopeful that I would see him again, that this could maybe go somewhere. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but it was hard not to. I hadn’t felt this way in an exceptionally long time. I haven’t been on this good of a date in equally as long. I can’t wait to see him again…

Present day...

I finally pull into the parking lot after an hour stuck in traffic. My 12-hour day at work today has taken a lot out of me. I’m exhausted, mentally and physically. Thankfully though, my 2-week-long vacation starts tomorrow. After that, I have fourteen days of no working, no getting up at the ass crack of dawn to be able to drive in miserable traffic, no dealing with difficult or boring co-workers. Just fourteen days of rest and relaxation, after the wedding of course.

My best friend and her fiancé are getting married on Saturday. I’ve watched them go through all of their highs and lows throughout the last few years and when he came to me telling me he planned on proposing, I couldn’t have been happier for them. He even asked me to secretly photograph the moment for her. She was more than surprised about everything.

Now their wedding is here and everyone couldn’t be more excited to celebrate them.

Tomorrow is their rehearsal dinner. The wedding party and their plus ones are all invited.

I walk into my apartment, immediately relieving myself from the confines of my shoes. A heavenly scent registers to me and I’m carried all the way to the kitchen. I see my sexy boyfriend standing at the stove with his back towards me.

“Hey babe,” he calls without turning around.

I hum, happily making my way towards him. I wrap my arms around his waist, placing a kiss on his back. “What is that unbelievable smell?”

He chuckles, vibrating through his chest. “Your favorite, of course.”

I hum again, “You spoil me, baby.”

He chuckles again, turning in my arms. His handsome face finally came into view. His gorgeous brown eyes look into mine as I get lost in his. For the past year, I’ve been the happiest I’ve been in a while. Since the day I met him, it was like everything fell into place. He’s sweet, ambitious, funny, kindhearted, passionate, and just overall the best man I had ever met. He makes me so happy…

Oh who am I kidding? He’s perfect. He is everything I ever wanted. If I made a list of all of the qualities I wanted in a husband, he would check off every single box.

But the feelings I have had for him over the last year are nothing compared to what I had in one night for him. I find myself wishing his eyes were bright blue instead of dark brown. I wish his arms were around me instead of the ones around me right now. The butterflies from that night have stayed dormant ever since.

I don’t know what happened after that night. I honestly thought we had a good time that night. Conversations flowed seamlessly. We made each other laugh so hard we had tears running down our faces. The physical connection was there- at first he had his arm around my shoulders as we walked around town, but as time went on he slowly moved lower around my waist, eventually intertwining our hands together until we arrived back at our cars. He even said that he wanted to see me again.

But I never heard from him again after that one text message. No call, no text, not even a message from my friend’s boyfriend. Nothing. I was disappointed beyond belief. I didn’t think he was that guy: the type to ditch someone without any explanation or goodbye. I thought I understood him to be a gentleman. Everything I had read about him pointed to him being one of the purest humans in the world. This was the opposite of all of that.

From that day on, I’ve loathed him. He gave me the perfect evening and then cut me off cold turkey from anything further. I have a three strike rule. His first: he was late. His second: he tricked me into liking him. His third: he lied to me. Three strikes and he’s out.

I have tried not to look back since. It’s not without its difficulties though since he’s literally everywhere. On magazine covers, in commercials, movie trailers, streaming services- he’s there. Why did he have to be such a successful actor? If he weren’t, it would make for forgetting him that much easier.

No closure. No answers. Nothing.

The rehearsal dinner went smoothly the next night which hopefully was foreshadowing for the big day itself.

A majority of us were standing around about to start when the doors loudly being opened drew everyone’s attention away from our milling about. A man stood in the middle of the doorway then strode in like he owned the place. The closer he got, the more the details of his face came into focus.

No. Freaking. Way.

I look toward my best friend. She looked like she wasn’t shocked he was late, but she knew he was coming. I creep up behind her and clear my throat. Instantly she cringed.

“Did you forget to tell me something?” I whisper to her.

She sends me an apologetic smile, “Well, I actually put off telling you ‘cause I didn’t know how you would react and then I meant to tell you last night but with the whole ‘I’m getting married in two days’ buzz took over and now the rehearsal is here-”

“Just please tell me I’m not walking in with him.” I beg.

She chuckles nervously before she escaped to go greet him with her fiancé.

I turn to her sister who is also one of my closest friends. “Did you know he was going to be a groomsman?”

The guilt written in her face tells me everything I need to know. “She made me promise not to tell you.”

I groan, “The loyalty level around here is staggeringly low.”

I head over to where my boyfriend is standing and take comfort in his arms before I have to deal with the man who broke my heart.

“Are you okay?” He asks a little confused by my actions.

I nod, “Just tired from last night.” He chuckles at the mention of the night before, squeezing me into his chest.

“Alright everyone! Time to get started.” The wedding coordinator beckons us all to the back entrance of the barn standing next to our corresponding wedding party member. I stand right in front of the Maid of Honor and Best Man. I kept my eyes forward focusing on anything but the guy who took his place next to me.

“It’s good to see you,” He murmurs to me over the instructions of the coordinator.

I scoff and roll my eyes. He has the nerve to say that to me after two years of silence. I imagined a million times what it would be like to see him again. I’d imagined a lot of screaming with possible hitting. Or I thought about the ever-effective, old fashioned silent treatment. He doesn’t deserve to know that our one night out together effected me so much and I’ve carried a rather large torch for him ever since. At the very moment, it will be the latter, but there’s no telling what tonight and tomorrow will bring.

“Now ladies, rest- don’t grab- your hand near the crook of his arm. Men, keep your arm at that angle with an open hand resting on your stomach- no fist. And don’t forget to smile- this is a happy day!” As quickly as he showed up, the coordinator was on to the bride and her father before either of us could register he was there.

I begrudgingly did as I was instructed, “resting” my hand on his bare forearm, holding a stand-in bouquet for the occasion in my other hand.

“Are you not going to talk to me?” He speaks again but I ignore him once more.

Thankfully that was when it was our turn to walk down the aisle. For the rest of the rehearsal, he didn’t get a chance to say anything else. As soon as we were done, I go straight for my boyfriend. I figured there’s no way he would approach me if I were with another man.

We all head to the restaurant afterwards to celebrate the last night before our friends begin their lives together as husband and wife. I keep my distance from Chris, always sticking close with my boyfriend.

The one moment I was alone was when I went to the bathroom. I thought for the few minutes I wouldn’t be in danger.

However I was wrong.

As soon as I step out an arm shot out in front of me. A very pale muscular arm.

“Are you seriously going to ignore me for the next two days?”

I duck under his arm fully planning on continuing what I set out to do.

“Y/N,” he grabs my arm, “will you please talk to me? What did I do to make you so mad at me?”

I whip around hopefully sending daggers his way. “Are you serious right now?”

“She finally speaks!” He exclaims.

“Because I cannot believe what I’m hearing. Like, I don’t think I heard you right.” All of the feelings I’ve been burying for two years were making their way up to the surface and I don’t think I can stop them. “We had a fantastic night. It was literally the best night of my life, it was the most comfortable with a guy that I had ever been. You made me laugh, you gave me butterflies, you helped me feel for the first time in years.” I try to swallow down the lump that was forming in my throat. “You told me you wanted to see me again. You made me excited for the future for once in my life… and then you took it away.”

With every second that passed, his expression got closer and closer to utter defeat: his shoulders slumped, his grip on my arm loosened, his jaw slowly unclenched, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You were late,” I hold up one finger, “You tricked me,” two fingers,” “You lied to me.” Three fingers were up and in front of his face for emphasis. “Three strikes and you’re out.”

I back away from him, having nothing more I wanted to say. As soon as I turned the corner, I felt liberated… for about five seconds. When that passed, devastation hit. For the last two years, I’ve held out hope- I tried not to- but I did, that maybe someday something could happen between us. That maybe, just maybe, we could pick up where we left off that night.

Now that the moment of confrontation has come and gone, I feel all the hope fade away. All of those possibilities I pictured have left the building. Being with him is no longer an option. I have my boyfriend who makes me happy, who gives me everything I could possibly want.

The rest of the night went on without another incident. Chris kept his distance. However, I could feel his eyes on me for every second that passed as we sat at the table. It was a relief when we finally left and could retreat back to our hotel rooms for the night. The bride and I got to stay in a suite that we’ll all be getting ready in in the morning. They wanted to uphold the “not seeing each other the night before the wedding,” even though they’ve lived with each other for a year and a half now.

On the wedding day, everything went according to plan. Everyone was on time to hair and make-up, pictures went flawlessly, the weather cooperated with everything, Chris didn’t attempt to talk to me at all- it was a perfect day to watch two people who love each other commit to the other for the rest of their lives.

But then came the reception. That’s when I knew apparently all bets would be off. The ceremony was over. Niceties would wear off as more and more alcohol is consumed. I was not looking forward to it.

We make our ridiculous entrances and take our seats at the head table. We eat then speeches were made. Lots of laughs were had as the Best Man dished on stories he had with the groom growing up, a few tears were shed at her sister’s after recounting the moment the bride knew he was the man of her dreams- overall I’d say they were a success.

Again, I felt his eyes on me, burning holes in the side of my head from the other side of the groom for the entire dining portion of the evening. I kept myself from glancing in his direction, instead focusing on the conversations with the bride’s sister next to me and my boyfriend who is across the way- anything not to meet his eyes.

Finally the DJ announces it was time for all to convene on the dancefloor after the specialty dances. I immediately see my boyfriend start to stand, knowing he’d been ready for this all night. I’d been looking forward to dancing with him all night as well, I even removed my shoes in anticipation. As I stand up, a hand is held out in front of me. I knew whose hand it was. I remember staring at it as he would rub his lips on our date. The strength of it as it intertwined with mine as we walked down the streets of our town, the safeness I felt as he squeezed it if he detected I was getting anxious around a group of people and I needed the reassurance. I knew that hand well, unfortunately.

“Dance with me?” He nearly whispers in my ear. I didn’t realize he was that close until I could feel said whisper on my neck. I contain the shiver that runs down my spine at how husky his voice is. God I’ve missed that…

No! I will not be enchanted by him again. He does not deserve me.

I exhale the breath I was holding, it comes out a lot harsher than I expected. “No, thank you.” I turn away from him, but his hand gently grabs my arm stopping me from going any further.

He whispers again, “He’s not good enough for you,” before walking away.

I’m frozen in place. I glare at his retreating back as he makes his way over to the bar. My mouth hangs open in disbelief. How dare he… How fucking dare he assume anything about me or my relationship. He doesn’t know anything about what our relationship is like. My boyfriend treats me so well, spoils me even though I know I don’t deserve it. He listens to me, he cares about me, and he makes me laugh until I cry- he’s everything I’ve wanted in a man. Chris is the one who had his chance and subsequently blew it. He has no right to judge or even comment on my relationship when he knows absolutely nothing about it.

I hurriedly make my way to my awaiting boyfriend and pull him onto the crowded dancefloor. “You okay?” He asks me, “Did he say something to upset you?”

“Nothing worth repeating.” All I wanted to do was forget about him and his irrelevant feelings towards my relationship…

…Except I couldn’t. His words rattled me. Does he see something I don’t? He told me on our date that he’s an excellent judge of character so he wouldn’t say something like that unless he got a bad feeling, right? Either that or he said it just to get under my skin and force me to talk to him. No matter the reason I hate him for it because my pride won’t let it stand.

I spot him leaning against the bar, staring directly at the two of us over the rim of his glass. His perfect eyebrow quirks up at the eye contact, that sets my blood to boiling. He thinks he’s so smug. I wish I could just slap that stupid hidden smirk right off his perfect face…

Following a few dances, I mutter something about him going to dance with the bride to my boyfriend before exiting the dancefloor. I rush out of the barn, away from the crowd needing some air from his suffocating gaze. I find a little lit area that’s perfect for pictures. There are rectangular hay bales set together as a makeshift U-shaped bench with some low watt bulbs strung up above between two poles. It would be serene if I weren’t already on edge.

After taking a few deep breaths, I finally feel like I can speak without yelling. “You had no right.”

I didn’t have to turn around to know he followed me out here. It’s exactly what I wanted him to do, just like it was his intention to get under my skin. As much as I wished to avoid this conversation it seems that we can’t go on without it. We may tear each other apart in the process, but this is my chance for closure. This is my only opportunity to get the answers I’ve been needing to move on for the past two years. Two years of wondering what went wrong after the most perfect date I’ve ever been on with an equally perfect man has been eating at my heart and mind. I hated always wondering “what if” or “what would I be doing right now if I were with him” especially when I started dating my boyfriend. I had no answers as to why those questions could not be. I thought with time I’d stop asking them, thinking I’d never see the man again. He’s a big movie star, why would he wonder about a woman he went on one date with?

As I expected, his deep baritone voice comes behind me, but his words do little to ease my nerves. In fact they set them off even more so than before. “I’m sorry.”

I scoff at his half-hearted apology, knowing he doesn’t mean it at all. “Oh bite me, Christopher.” I turn around to face him. God he looks even better out here. The subtle gold glow from the lights are complimenting his skin tone, they make his baby blues shine which just frustrates me more.

“Please, Y/N,-” He takes a step closer to me, but I won’t have that.

“No,” I take a step back keeping the needed distance between us for fear I may strangle him. “I don’t want to hear any of your bullshit excuses. You had no right to pass judgment on a relationship that you know absolutely nothing about.”

He slips his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. “Oh, I’ve seen enough.”

“Really?” I jut my hip out, resting my hand on it. “In the two days you’ve been here, you think you’ve got us all figured out?”

“Yes,” he answers with conviction.

My shaking hands clench into fists, trying my damnedest not to lose control. I entangle them into my hair as best as I can without ruining the work the hairstylist did this morning before running them down my face. He has some nerve.

“We had one night. One night! One nearly perfect night together and suddenly that makes you an expert on what is good for me?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘an expert’-”

“I wouldn’t say anything!” I interrupt, “I never heard from you again. Now after two years, you come in here acting like you know anything about me or my relationship? Who do you think you are?”

“A man who made a mistake!” He snaps.

There was a long pause. I never expected to hear that from him. All these years I wanted to think the worst of him for leaving me hanging like that. He got my hopes up, thinking we may have a future together only for them to come crashing back down to Earth when he never contacted me again. I wondered and wondered if maybe I read the signals wrong. Maybe I took his flirting as more than it was. Maybe the small gestures like his arm around my shoulders, on the small of my back, or the hand holding were only him being friendly. I wracked my brain going over every single detail of the night to try and pinpoint a reason for him not to have called me afterwards. I found nothing, which was equally as frustrating.

“Alright, I made a mistake.” He moves to sit on one of the hay bales. He rests his elbows on his knees and buries his head in his hands, letting out a huge sigh. “God I wanted everything with you.”

Once again, I’m frozen by his words. He what? But that doesn’t make sense. His words and his actions don’t line up- how could that be?

He removes his hands from his face, staring at the grass. “After that night, I wanted it all. I wanted to settle down, get the house with a white picket fence in the suburbs, carry you through the threshold after our wedding day, bring our children home from the hospital, watch them grow until we’re old and gray. I wanted everything.”

My heart aches. All of that was exactly what I wanted, especially with him. I could feel the tears building behind my eyes, my heart breaking mourning the loss of what we could have had by now if he had only said something.

I also find my anger growing as well. If he felt all of that, why did he not contact me again? Why did he give me hope that our night out together could have been the start of something good and then taken it away just as quickly?

“But?” There had to be a “but” coming after his statement. Clearly something stopped him from pursuing the possibility of “us,” destroying any future we could have had.

He sighs, “but…” he finally looks up at me with more emotion in his eyes than I was expecting. There was contemplation, confusion, honesty, agony…

I look away. In an instant I knew what he was about to say. It makes complete sense. He was at the height of his career, shooting movie after movie all around the world for a majority of the year. How would he have had time to have a relationship mixed in with that? He couldn’t.

“Your career was more important,” I interject, “I get it. I do.” I couldn’t fault him for choosing work over someone he just met, no matter how much he claims to have liked me right off the bat. He was going to be busy. We probably wouldn’t have had a lot of time to see each other. It’s not like I could give up my career to follow him. Besides even if I could have, he wouldn’t want that. He said so himself. He wanted someone who was independent; who could do their own thing and not be enveloped in his crazy life.

He stands up and steps closer to me, “no, that wasn’t it. I promise you that wasn’t it.”

There’s that word. Promise. He promised we’d see each other again soon after our night together. But he broke that.

“Then what was it?” My voice cracks at the end. I can feel my reserves slipping the more he speaks. I didn’t realize how much I missed his voice until now. I haven’t seen any of the movies he’s been in the last few years. I have him and his hashtag blocked on all social media platforms so I don’t see anything of his on any of my timelines. My other friends think I don’t like him (only my best friend and her now husband know about our date). To hear it again brings back all of the good memories we made together in that short night and all of the emotions I’ve been holding back since. “I have been wracking my brain for years wondering what went wrong after that.”

“I got scared,” he finally admits the truth. “I got scared of how much I liked you and how much I wanted to protect you.”

“From what?”

“From me,” he casts his gaze down at his hands as he fidgets with them, “and my life. I didn’t want to subject you to the chaos that is my life. I know what my fans would do to you if we were in a relationship, I was trying to protect you from all of the ugly that being with me comes with.”

So that’s what he was afraid of? He was afraid our relationship would inevitably end exactly like his last one? His “fans” were horrible to her. They sent death threats to her and her family members, always commenting negatively on her social media pages all because she was dating him. I remember reading about it right after it happened. I knew that side of his fandom was toxic. But did I care? No. Did I think I couldn’t handle it? I honestly don’t know, but would I have been willing to deal with it for him? Yes. I would have given up anything to be with him. That’s precisely why he did what he did. He didn’t want me giving anything up for him because he knows I’d be giving up any semblance of privacy I had if I were in a public relationship with him.

If I had known these were the reasons why he ghosted me, I would have been broken hearted but I would have understood. Hell, I probably would have fallen more in love with him if I knew that, not fallen in loathe.

He continues, “I thought that if I never contacted you again, you could move on”- he clears his throat-“and find someone better than me who could give you the normal life you deserve. Which as much as I wish I couldn’t, I see that you have…” he pauses as if deciding whether he should keep speaking. When I don’t stop him, he does, “But I can’t help feeling like that could have been me.”

My slightly shaky hands cover his fidgeting ones. His hand moves until he’s intertwining our fingers together, palms touching. They fit perfectly together as if they were each other’s missing puzzle piece. His thumbs stroke mine sending warmth down my arms all the way down to my toes. The sparks I felt back then return with full force. He leans down, pressing his forehead against mine. My heart is beating out of my chest, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t feel it in some way.

I feel my heart break in my chest. My lip quivers and the tears threaten to make themselves known. My only saving grace is the fact that he can’t see my face. I may lose it completely if he did.

His breath is coming out equally as shaky between us, he squeezes my hands as if he doesn’t want me to let go. Believe me, I don’t want to. I bring one of our interlocked hands up to my lips. I kiss the back of his hand because I can’t kiss him where I want to. I pull back just enough to see his beautiful baby blues that could have any woman in the world swoon. They were terribly bloodshot right now but that only made them more tragically breathtaking. I tear one of my hands out of his and bring it to his cheek. He leans into it, a tear drops into the crevices between the contact.

The barely above whisper that came out was all I could muster without having a total breakdown because he’s right. It could have been him. We could have been something great. We could have built a life together. We could have had it all. And it broke my heart into a million pieces knowing all of this could have been avoided if life had handed both of us different lives.

“It almost was.”

~*~

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#almost #Chris Evans #christopher robert evans #christopher evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans drabble #chris evans oneshot #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #jj ehlby writes

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justasparkwritings · 4 years ago

Text

Green Light

Pairing: Harry Styles X Ex Reader, Harry Styles X New Girlfriend

Genre: Angst

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol use, Mentions of Drug use, Past Infidelity

Listen: Green Light by Lorde

For the #playlistficchallenge by @harrystylescherry

The lights flicker against her skin, dancing pinks and purples and blues giving way to green as the bass thumps through the speakers. The light up floor is causing an illusion against her body as she hastily searches for her peers. Eyes darting across the club, trying to find the couple of the hour, but getting lost in the sea of drunk people dancing to a b-rate Whitney Houston cover, she’s becoming frustrated. Why play Whitney if you’re not going to play the original? She wonders, moving through the perimeter towards what she assumes is the VIP area. Being correct, she waits patiently for one of the guests to notice her, waving her into the exclusive space.

He notices her first, beaten converse and magenta tulle, she dressed to kill. Standing, he moves towards the bodyguard, pointing to her as the guard gave her a once-over. Nodding, pulling the rope back, she smiles at the stranger before deftly moving into the space.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Harry says, hand on the small of her back, flush against the exposed skin, lips low to her ear, guiding her towards their friends.

“You’re such a liar,” She replies, rolling her eyes. The neon eyeliner, drifting over her eyelids and near her brows is striking against the dim lights. The single rhinestones applied carefully to the inner corners of her eyes bounce the light off, shrouding her in a conflicting color story.

“You made it!” Daisy yells, arms reaching to pull her into a hug. It’s tight and sweaty, a sign she’s either been dancing or snorting.

“I told you I’d be here,” Her smile widens at her friend, “Congrats again on your engagement.”

“Thank you!!! Now please, drink. We have bottle service until midnight,” Daisy hands her a champagne flute, which she happily tosses back before reaching for the vodka. “If you’re good, you can have a little of what I’m having.”

“I better behave,” She responds, eyes clocking Harry talking to Daisy’s fiancé, Jack.

“I thought he wasn’t coming,” Daisy’s gaze follows hers, eying the man. His wide trousers and cropped jacket give way to the tattoos covering his chest, swallows in constant conversation. Hair recently cut, he’s scruffy and wanting, his eyes not hesitating to check her out for the second time in two minutes.

“Lies,” She scoffs, eyes rolling again at the sentiment.

“I swear! Jack said he was out of town,” Daisy counters.

“Clearly he’s not,” She looks at their other friends, nodding and smiling to the familiar faces. Their friends from uni, from work, a few from their neighborhood in Holmes Chapel have all gathered to raise a glass at Daisy and Jack’s inevitable engagement. It feels like the kind of New Year’s party Harry would’ve dragged her to, on the pretense that it would be fun to catch up. Knowing he would be right, she would’ve gone and enjoyed the company of the people who knew her before she was on his arm, the people who knew him when he worked all hours at the bakery. Tonight, their friendly smiles weren’t hitting the same, welcoming her into their embrace, no, they were darting between her and Harry, unsure where their allegiance should lie.

“Rumor has it, he’s got a new girlfriend,” Daisy says.

“Super,” She purses her lips, eyes moving to search for whoever his latest trophy was.

“Don’t be like that,” Daisy shakes her head, disappointment oozing from every syllable.

“Like what?” She snaps.

“You’re so mad he’s with someone else, when -

“I thought we were done talking about what happened between us?” She interrupts, frustration and anger coursing through her veins.

“If you were over it, you’d stop looking at him like that,” Daisy holds her own, tone unwavering.

“Fuck off.”

Handing her a drink, Daisy levels with her, “Drink.”

Tossing back whatever was in the glass, she waits impatiently for the liquor to take over, coursing through her veins and reducing her heat to a dull simmer.

In the months after the breakup, she hadn’t seen or interacted with Harry. No cursory texts, no awkward pleasantries exchanged at a birthday party, or running into him at the grocery. She didn’t speak to him, and yet he was everywhere. His voice, his favorite sayings, his touch, his music, all of it spread across the city, taunting her. She had let him go, literally, but figuratively, metaphorically, he was everywhere. Seeping into her thoughts, burrowing into her mind, never able to escape him even in sleep. Tonight, he looked at her like he didn’t know her at all, like she was the villain in his story, not the other way around. Like he didn’t let his work get the best of them, ruining what they had in its wake.

Somewhere between drinks four and five, Harry’s latest lover arrives. Scarily tall and equally skinny, silky brown locks and pouty lips, it’s clear she’s a model. Whether she was with anyone or not, the bouncer lets her into the VIP section without a second thought. She floats towards Harry, sinking gently onto his lap before whispering in his ear. He smiles at her as she places a hand on his scruff covered cheek and lowers her lips to his.

From the dance floor, she stares, unable to stop watching him move on from her. How could it be so easy?

Pulling her attention back to the floor, Daisy spins her, moving them out of sight from Harry. The lights beneath their feet give way to a soft glow about her, the colors bending against Daisy’s white jumpsuit. She’s grateful for her friend, her best friend, grateful for the distraction of alcohol and blow, grateful to be dancing and screaming the lyrics instead of sitting in the tub at home, crying into her room temperature bath water. But grateful and grieving often go together, and as her level of intoxication ebbs, the hurt of seeing Harry with someone knew, she retreats to the VIP section to gather herself.

“You must be Y/N,” The model says, moving from her post next to Harry to her.

“Um, yes?” She responds, eyes traveling up the woman’s legs, slowly making their way to her face.

“I’m Arden, Harry’s girlfriend,” Arden smiles, blinding, and sits down. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Can’t believe everything you hear,” She scoffs, grateful for the bottle of water Jack hands her before going to find Daisy amongst the neon.

“Harry speaks quite highly of you, so does Jack,” Arden continues to smile, blissfully ignoring the contempt she’s displaying.

“You’ve met Jack before?” She asks.

“Just Jack, never Daisy, she’s stunning, right?” Arden asks, laughing.

“Yeah, completely,” She nods, eyes traveling to find Daisy, her beacon in the club. She’s been best friends with Daisy since diapers, their mother’s best friends, hoping and praying they’d each have daughters to carry on the legacy of their familial bond.

“Harry tells me you’re in publishing,” Arden tries again to make conversation.

“Correct,” She nods again.

“That’s amazing, I love reading,” Arden offers.

“Same.”

“I have a lot of downtime at work, I’m a model. I just did the new Rodarte campaign, and Gucci,” Arden is trying her damnest to make this work, but her motives remain a mystery.

“Congrats,” She snorts, unimpressed by the model’s recent credentials.

“Thanks, I just want to say, I know you and Harry are at this weird point in your friendship, but I do hope you’ll work it out.” Arden is serious, glossy blue eyes resolute.

“Did Harry tell you why we broke up?” She asks, eyeing Arden suspiciously.

“A little, but I didn’t ask. It was before me so really, who cares?” Arden forces a giggle, baby blues trying to break through the tension.

“Right,” She nods, a slight eyeroll giving way to her true feelings.

“I just thought maybe you two could, mend your –

“Hey,” Harry says, making his way towards the two of you.

“Hi babe,” Arden seamlessly slips her arm around his waist, pulling him close to her.

“What uh, what are you two talking about?” Harry asks, eyes accusatory as he again takes in your stunning appearance.

“I was just saying that we’re going to Tahiti after I finish my campaign with Gucci. Relax, sit on the beach, drink Mai Tai’s, surf, or really, for me, learn,” Arden rambles on, her hair bouncing in animation, matching her words. Her deft swerve to the topic of vacation surprising, unsure why she needed to lie to Harry.

“The beach?” she asks, looking at Harry. He nods, cursory.

“Yeah,” He sips on his drink.

“Huh,” She responds, eyes narrow. “Will you excuse me? It was nice meeting you Arden.”

Slipping out of the VIP section and into the night air, she feels his presence behind her, chasing after her as she moves through the crowd and into the brisk summer air.

Not bothering to turn around, she asks, “Why are you following me?”

“Why did you just disappear?” Harry demands, coming to stand next to her. His warmth radiating onto her skin.

“You’re here with someone else,” She reminds him.

“You haven’t responded to any of my –

“Harry, you are here with someone else, the very someone else who if I’m not mistaken, is the reason for our demise,” She turns to stare at him, eyes boring into his.

“I, she’s not,” Harry shakes his head.

“Oh right, because I am the sole proprietor of our heartache and failed relationship,” Another eyeroll. Her mother used to tell her that if you roll your eyes too many times, they’ll get stuck up there. A fear she was clearly ignoring.

“You’re not,” Harry scoffs, they’d had this fight before.

“Why are you looking at me like I am?” She’s unwilling to back down, a trait Harry once loved about her.

“I’m, I’m sorry alright?” Harry’s flustered speech gives way to a run of his hand through his curls. Resting his hands on his hips, he stares at her.

“Sorry for what?” She asks again, words clipped.

“Everything,” He shrugs.

“That’s the least specific apology I have ever heard,” She deadpans. He wants to respond with some witty banter, some lighthearted sarcasm, some joke a year ago, five years ago, she would’ve laughed at. But they’re not the same people they were six months ago.

“What do you want me to say?” Harry’s exasperated.

“I want you to tell me how you really feel, because we broke up six months ago, and I still don’t understand why you ran to her, whoever she was, instead of fighting for me. Then tell me why our friends think I’m the viper, I’m the one who broke your heart. Why are you spreading rumors hoping they’ll bite me, when they just show how pathetic you’re behaving?” Her volume increases exponentially as she speaks, until she’s nearly yelling at him.

“That’s not fair,” Harry states, eyes closing as he shakes his head.

“I’m trying to let go, Harry. But you fucking have your tentacles in everything I do! You’re everywhere.”

“It’s so easy for me? You are everywhere. Every new song I write, every role I consider taking, every project. I still fucking talk to you like you’ll hear me, everywhere I go is tainted by some memory of us.” Harry spits back.

“Tell me why, Harry. Why are you going to Tahiti?” She questions, voice cutting through the cold air and going straight to Harry’s heart.

“I like the beach,” He shrugs.

“You are such a fucking liar! No, you don’t!” She yells, arms reaching towards the summer sky as she shakes her head at him.

“Maybe I’m trying out new things,” Harry stares at her, “Maybe I’m trying to be –

“What, different? Better? You cheat on me, after saying that you will always be in love with me, which surprise, you’re not!”

“Not a cheater?” Harry’s momentarily confused, a slight diversion from the rant she’s begun.

“Not in love anymore,” Her eyes are wide, confused by his lapse in memory, “You’re not in love with me anymore. You cheated on me, lied to our friends and now you’re here with little miss long legs.”

“Don’t call her that,” Harry says.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Arden,”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Harry runs a hand through his locks again, sighing in frustration.

“No, you’re not. If you were, she wouldn’t be here with you. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be fighting with me outside the club. If you were sorry, you’d –

“I need your forgiveness! Alright, that’s why I’m out here.” Harry’s voice raises several decibels. He’s been holding onto this for months, long before she found out, long before he willingly broke her heart.

She lets out a shaky breath, “What?”

“I need you to forgive me, to accept my apology, to, give me the green light that it’s okay to be, not yours anymore,” Harry explains.

“You cheated on me!” She yells, finger pointing directly above Harry’s heart. “I have honored you by not telling our friends for what? You don’t get to have or ask for my forgiveness, I’ve already given you too much. Forgiveness went out the window when you fucked someone else Harry! How dare you ask me to forgive you, absolve you, for a sin you willingly committed. You were in complete control of yourself and you still cheated on me. You want a green light? That was fucking it.”

She pushes past him, stomping back into the club and onto the dance floor, into the arms of someone else, someone who isn’t scared to kiss her above the dazzling lights, someone whose bedroom she’ll wake up in, unsure where she is, not caring to leave a note before slipping out into the city. And hopefully, after a few more escapades, the embrace of the rising sun on her walk home won’t echo his voice anymore. The birds chirping won’t sing his songs, and the sting of telling Daisy the truth won’t ring out over overcooked eggs and overpriced mimosas.

Harry had wanted her to give him the green light, but in refusing to do so, she watched the light change for herself.

Next: Talia

#playlistficchallenge #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfic #green light #lorde #lyric challenge #happy birthday harry #exes #new girlfriend #engagement party #harrystylescherry

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xoluvx · 4 years ago

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miss americana & the heartbreak prince

“You’re-”

“Spider-Man.” He finished your thoughts. He always seemed to do that. You usually found it endearing, but right now was not the time. His hands were clutching the limp mask. His eyes were begging you to understand or maybe begging for forgiveness.

“Oh my-” your voice cracked. The overwhelming feeling of betrayal and realization infiltrated your body. The wheels in your head were turning as you pieced everything together. All the times he’d disappeared. All the times he couldn’t explain the little oddities.

The bodice of your prom dress was suffocating you. It was like the air had been knocked out of your lungs; your lungs were shrinking and no matter how much you breathed, you simply couldn’t inhale.

“I’m sorry,” Peter approached, his covered arm reaching towards you. You backed away. You lip quivered; your mind was flooded with all the times you’d praised Spider-Man and all the times you wondered why Peter cancelled plans. The answer was there all along and he didn’t even value you enough to tell you the truth.

“Don’t,” you said through gritted teeth still backing away. One hand clung to your belly. You felt sick to your stomach. Sick with disappointment. There was a vile taste in your mouth.

You shuddered at the memory. Your hand traveling to your belly once again like you’d done that night. It still stung. It’d been years and somehow the wound felt fresh. The knife dug deeper this time.

The memories continued to flood back as you held the white envelope in your hand. Your name was boldly written across the center and your old high school crest and address were printed on the center. Your five year reunion. Why was that a thing?

Surely, no one wanted to reunite with their high school classmates. If they hadn’t done so by now then some doors were just meant to remain closed. There’s no way this could be good. It’d been five years since graduation. Five years since you last spoke to Peter. Five years of your life where you learned to live without him. Detached from those around you in fear that you’d be betrayed once again.

You sighed making your way towards the trash. The envelope fell into it with ease as you turned around not looking back. Just like that night.

“So you’re not going?” The woman across from you asked raising her eyebrows taking a sip of her dark coffee. You could see the poorly washed paint on her delicate fingers which were tightly wrapped around her coffee mug.

“No, MJ. Don’t tell me you are,” you teased taking a bite of the puffy pastry. It’d become a routine with MJ. One that seamlessly happened being that you went to the same college. You hadn’t been the best of friends in high school. She was the lone wolf, you were a cheerleader. But right now, at this point in your life, it seemed like that part of you never existed and you wished you had been invisible back then. Maybe then, Peter wouldn’t have been in your life.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she replied nonchalantly placing her cup down while leaning back on her chair.

“Good,” you gave her an okay hand symbol. Her posture shifted as she leaned on the table intrigued by your response. You had been the most popular girl at school and you didn’t want to relive the glory days? MJ was confused.

“Though you’re awfully eager not to go so maybe we should,” she joked with a lack of expression though deep down she was dying to watch you squirm.

It didn’t take an intelligent person, though MJ was very intelligent, to notice how much you’d changed after high school. You strayed from parties. Cringed when any sort of attention was on you. You never dated. You were a completely differently person. Unrecognizable except everything about your outer appearance was as it’d been five years ago.

“So what’s the deal?” MJ asked curiously picking at the left overs on your plate. Yes, you were that comfortable with each other.

“Nothing. I just think five years isn’t worthy of a reunion,” you stated shaking off the topic or so you hoped.

“I agree, but I’d expect you out of all people would want to return. Being popular and all,” she shrugged folding her arms and leaning on the chair once again. So maybe you’d become closer these past years, but there was a part of you that you kept locked away. A part of your heart that was full of ache. That was so fragile even the smallest movement might send it shattering. A part that was shut off even from your best friend.

“I just don’t want to. I have to get to work,” you said excusing yourself. It was Saturday. You didn’t work. MJ knew that as she watched you rush out of the cafe, your hands deep in your coat pocket. Guess one thing that hadn’t changed was running away from your problems.

“You know I’d never hurt you,” Peter whispered. He was sitting so close to you the air you were breathing was his. You could smell the fresh fabric softener bouncing off his high school crewneck mixed with the sweet smell of his shampoo. Probably his aunt’s.

“I know you wouldn’t, Peter.” Your head fell forward touching his forehead in the slightest. His hands were at his side, you felt his pinky finger brushing against your hand. The familiar rush of electricity coursed through your body.

It’d started off innocent. He was tutoring you in math and somehow, before you knew, your heart had started falling for him. Your heart memorized the way his lips turned into a tight line when he was focusing or how his brows furrowed when he was curious. Especially the way his heart thumped when he came near like your hearts were talking in a language only they knew.

“I’m afraid I will,” you whispered finally letting his pinky finger wrap around yours until your hands were intertwined. His other hand was now cupping your cheek.

You and Peter seemed to be a match made in heaven. He complimented every part of your soul, but high school was vicious. You were popular. He was - well, Peter. You didn’t care, but it was way deeper than just flaunting your relationship down the hall as if it was normal.

“I want to be with you,” he breathed against your lips which were absentmindedly pursed expecting the warmth of his lips. His candy coated lips. So sweet and reassuring. Lips that were capable of making everything around you fade.

Your heart palpitated. The memories were flooding back. You hadn’t realized you were crying until a salty tear grazed your top lip. Sniffling you wiped the tears from your eyes. You stood from the couch closing the curtains; the sun was gone and so was the day. You hoped the memories would vanish like the sun did every night.

But they didn’t. Just like the sun, they were only temporarily hidden by a blanket of darkness. You tossed in bed; your sheets felt cold and uncomfortable. The ghosts of your past were haunting you. You shivered pulling the covers closer to your face. The proximity of the covers to your mouth were creating a comforting warmth, but so were the tears that were starting to form once again. Tears that quickly started streaming down your cheeks.

Reaching for your phone, you found the familiar contact. Your fingers moved swiftly. You clutched your phone until you heard a soft knock on your bedroom door. You shuffled to your feet opening the door weakly.

“Hi,” MJ breathed watching you through hooded lids.

“Can you stay with me tonight?” you asked opening the door to your bedroom wider.

“I’m just a few feet away. We live in the same house,” MJ pointed out as a matter of fact.

“No, I meant here.” You motioned to your room unable to hold yourself together. Your arms wrapped around your body which was shivering. MJ sighed comprehending. She placed a hand on your back pushing past you closing the door behind her. You crawled into bed opening the covers for her.

She slid next to you under the covers. Her hands curled under the pillow as she closed her eyes. You shifted your body which was still shivering. You wanted warmth. You wanted comfort. You scooted closer to her. MJ opened her eyes briefly. She noticed the tears that coated your cheeks, but she didn’t want to push. One of her hands draped around you delicately.

“I miss him,” you chocked no longer able to hold yourself together. You didn’t mind breaking down in front of her. Was MJ judgmental? Sometimes. But you knew she’d never judge you.

“Who?” she asked staring at the side of your face with confusion.

“Peter,” you swallowed the pain. You tried swallowing your tears, but they were past controllable.

“Peter?” she asked moving her body as if that would help her process the information. She was expecting answers, but you couldn’t talk. You were too chocked up with tears. Ugly crying. Your tears spilt on your pillow and your body was shaking as you gasped for air. That part of your heart you’d been protecting was shattering again.

“Hey, it’s okay.” MJ scooted closer to you. Her arms wrapped around you securely. One hand cradled your head and the other was securely wrapped around your back. She was trying to hold you together, but you’d already fallen apart.

- -

“You look great,” MJ cheered as the two of you stepped out of the car. She’d convinced you. She was going and she’d guilted you into tagging along. Besides, you couldn’t let her go by herself. She barely had friends in high school and if she was going, you might’ve as well accompany her.

“Stop being a kiss ass,” you joked adjusting your dainty purse on your shoulder. MJ chuckled and scoffed as you both walked towards the entrance of the school. A huge banner hung from the top of the school; they were really going all out for this, huh?

“Yes, I agree it’s excessive,” MJ replied. You snapped your head towards her, you didn’t realize you’d said that aloud.

“Just thirty minutes, right?” you asked to confirm.

“Yeah, sure.” MJ replied as the two of you stood at a table waiting to receive your name tags. You stuck the small rectangle on your dress looking around to see if you recognized any faces. None, so far.

“He’s probably not even coming,” MJ said watching you nervously cling to the chain strap of your purse as you scanned the hallway on your way towards the gym.

“Yeah. Probably too busy,” being Spider-Man you wanted to add. But even if you’d been disappointed by Peter, you weren’t going to tell him secret without his permission.

“There were so many students in our class, what are the odds you even bump into him?” MJ stated as you entered the gym.

Large. The odds were large because you’d been so enthralled in your panic that you didn’t notice the person whose back was towards you as you entered the gym. Your shoulder knocked into the person slightly and he turned to apologize. His voice rang in your eyes infiltrating every ounce of your body.

“Sorry,” it was him.

“I guess high, huh?” MJ whispered behind you watching him with probably a horrified look on your face.

Upon seeing you his lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but nothing was coming out. The drink in his hand was shaking slightly. Sensing the immediate tension, MJ came forth waving.

“Long time no see,” she said as if nothing was wrong. Ned, who was enthralled in a conversation near Peter heard MJ’s voice and turned giving her a wave with a big smile on his face.

“MJ!” he echoed joining Peter’s side. He wasn’t shy, going in for a hug. He embraced both you and MJ, your eyes still glued to Peter. Uncomfortably, but you couldn’t look away. He looked so different, yet the Peter you remembered from high school was still there.

In the midst of the conversation you managed to slip away. Excusing yourself with the excuse that you needed the bathroom, really you just needed some air. Your chest felt tight as you walked out of the school feeling the cold air on your face. Though it was cold, your nerves were on edge and you hadn’t realized you’d forgotten your jacket in the car.

Looking up at the sky, the sun was gone and you wished you could see the stars, but you were still in the city. You focused on the one star you could spot, your arms subconsciously wrapping around your body. Not from the cold, but more as a defense mechanism.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t live in the city,” his voice creeped up next to you. You flinched slightly, you hadn’t heard him. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t know what to say. You weren’t expecting this moment. But maybe you’d been hoping for it.

“I’m sorry,” Peter’s voice had matured somewhat. It suited present him. You were still looking at the sky, but you could feel his eyes on you. And you could almost imagine his pants tucked into the pockets of his pants.

“I wanted to tell you,” he continued. His voice slightly lower than previously.

“I’m not upset that you didn’t tell me,” you whispered finally looking at him. You didn’t know what else would come out of your mouth. It’s not like you anticipated to ever be confronted with him again.

“I hurt you,” he whispered stepping closer. You moved away the same distance he had come closer. He sighed biting his lip nervously.

“I’m upset that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me,” your voice was shaky, scared that you’d start crying. After all, you’d been the one who was scared you were going to hurt him all those years ago and boy how the tables turned.

“Please-” Peter said softly.

“Please what, Peter? What do you want from me? I’ve moved on. You’ve moved on,” you gulped feeling the sudden braveness dwindling as you started moving towards the entrance determined to find MJ. But you felt Peter’s hand on your arm stopping you.

“I haven’t moved on,” Peter’s voice was firm but soft; his eyes big and almost pleading as you finally met his gaze. You were holding your breath. His hand on your arm felt like fire and so did your throat.

Your eyes held his gaze. You could feel them swelling with tears. All the raw emotions from prom night returning. But this time it was mixed with the passing of time as you looked at just how much Peter had changed. You could see a small scar near his eyebrow that wasn’t there before. He had a few wrinkles near his eyes and the circles under his eyes were prominent. The freckles on his face had somehow became more apparent, visible even through the dimness of the night.

Your heart was thumping as his grip loosened; you instantly missed his touch, the warmth.

“I miss you,” he whispered. “I know I don’t deserve it, but please let me try-”

“One chance. Coffee. Tomorrow,” you couldn’t believe that was coming out of your mouth. But your heart was working faster than your brain and that face you loved was making you weak.

What was the point of holding a grudge when you’d already done so for five years and it hadn’t mend your heart?

“It’s a date,” his familiar goofy smile shone as he looked at you notifying just how much your facial features had matured.

“Mm we’re not there yet, Parker.” You titled your head finally cracking a smile allowing yourself to open up. His smile was so contagious, you couldn’t help yourself. Your heart almost felt whole again. Almost.

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #miss americana and the heartbreak prince

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divineknowing2021 · 3 years ago

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viewing guide

At its core, divine knowing is an exhibition about knowledge, power, and agency. It’s become a more common understanding that governments, institutions, and algorithms will manipulate the public with what information they frame as fact, fiction, or worthy of attention. Though I am early in researching this topic, I've only come across a minimal amount of mainstream discourse on how the initial threat limiting our scope of knowledge is a refusal to listen to ourselves.

In a world faced with so many threats - humans being violent toward each other, toward animals, toward the earth - it can be a bit unsettling to release the reins and allow ourselves to bear witness for a moment, as we slowly develop a deeper awareness of surrounding phenomena and happenings.

divine knowing includes works by formally trained and self-taught artists. A majority of the artists are bisexual, non-binary, or transgender. Regardless of degree-status, gender, or sexuality, these artists have tapped into the autonomous well of self-knowing. Their artworks speak to tactics for opening up to a more perceptive mode of being. They unravel dependencies on external sources for knowledge and what we might recognize, connect with, or achieve once we do.

The installation Femme Digitale by Sierra Bagish originates from a series she began in 2017 by converting photographs of women that were taken and distributed online without the subject’s consent into paintings. Her practice at the time was concerned with female abjection. Sourcing images found via simple keywords and phrases (e.g., passed out, passed out drunk) she swathes a mass-circulated canon of internet detritus that articulates and produces aggression towards women. With her paintings, she circumvents the images’ original framing mechanisms and subverts these proliferated images through a sincere and personal lens.

These paintings divulge the blurred space between idolatry and denigration these online photos occupy, asking whose desires these images fulfill and what their propagation reveals about the culture producing them. While Bagish's work contends with political motivations, she also remains keenly observant of form and the varying utilities of different media.

“I use the expressive potential of paint as a vehicle to intervene and challenge ideas about photography as a harbinger of the real and everyday.”

Chariot Birthday Wish is an artist and angel living in Brooklyn. They have seen The Matrix 28 times in 2 years and love horses. The tarot series included in divine knowing is their most intuitive project, something they revisit when unsure of what to work on next. The Major Arcana are composed of digital collages made from sourced images, the Minor Arcana are represented by short, poetic, interpretative texts about the cards. The series is played on shuffle, creating a unique reading for each viewer. This is a work in progress that will eventually finalize as a completed deck of digital collages available for purchase.

Chariot's work emerges from a constant consideration of apocalypse and connection. They reference technology in tandem with nature and a desire for unity. Underneath their work's surface conversation on beauty, care, and relationship exists an agenda to subtly evoke a conspiratorial anti-state mindset. Through a collective imagining of how good things could be and how good we want them to be, we might be able to reckon with how bad things are in contrast.

“I think about texting my friends from the middle of the woods...

Humans are a part of nature and we created these things. There's this Bjork quote where she says that "You can use pro tools and still be pagan." I'm really into the idea of using technology as a tool for divination and holy connection with nature. I imagine a scene; being in moss, it's absolute bliss, and then the connection of texting, sharing an image of moss with a friend, sharing that moment through cellular towers.”

The album "adding up" by thanks for coming is composed of songs Rachel Brown wrote during what they believe to be the most challenging year of their life. Rachel now looks back on this time in appreciation, recognizing they grew in ways they had never imagined. The entire year, they were committed to following their feelings to wherever it may lead.

“If I hadn't been open to following the almost indiscernible signs I was being sent, then I would have missed out on some of the most important moments in my life.”

Kimberly Consroe holds a Masters in Anthropology along with degrees in Archaeology, Literature, and History. She is currently a Research Analyst at the US Department of Commerce. Her artwork is a passionate escape from a hectic professional life and touches on themes of feminism and nature.

Her works begin as general ideas; their narrative complexity growing with the amount of time she invests in making each one. Her decoupage process starts with cutting hundreds, if not thousands, pieces of paper. The accumulation of clippings sourced from vintage and current-day magazines overlap to tell a story. In Domestication, Kimberly borrows submissive female figures from found images of Ryan Mcguinness's work and places them in a position of power.

“I believe intuition is associated with emotion and experience. It is wisdom and fear, empathy and outrage, distrust and familiarity. It is what we know before we know it. This relates to my artwork in that, from beginning to end, there is never one complete idea concerning the outcome: it is a personal journey. It emerges from an ephemeral narrative that coalesces into a definitive story.”

Anabelle DeClement is a photographer who primarily works with film and is interested in relationships as they exist within a frame. She is drawn to the mystery of the mundane. Intuition exists in her practice as a feeling of urgency and the decision to act on it --- a drive often used to describe street photography where the camera catches unexpected moments in an urban environment. Anabelle tends to photograph individuals with whom she has established personal relationships in a slow domestic setting. Her sense of urgency lies in capturing moments of peak intimacy, preserving a memory's informal beauty that otherwise may have been forgotten or overlooked.

Gla5 is a visual artist, poet, bookmaker, production designer, and educator. Play is at the center of their practice. Their process is an experimental one embracing impulse and adventure. Their compositions are informed by relationships among bodies of varying shapes, materials, and densities. Interests that come up in their work include a discernment between symbols and non-symbols, dream states, the portrayal of energy in action, and a fixation on forms such as cups, tables, and spoons.

“I generally think of my work as depicting a layer of life that exists underneath what we see in our everyday lives.”

Gladys Harlow is a sound-based performance artist, comedian, and activist who experiments with found objects, contact mics, textures, range, analog formats, present moments, and emotions. Through raw, avant-garbage performance art, they aim to breakdown societal barriers, abolish oppressive systems, and empower communities. Gladys was born in Queens, NY, raised in Miami, FL and has deep roots in Venezuela. Currently haunting in Philadelphia, PA, Gladys is a founding member of Sound Museum Collective. SMC holds space for reconstructing our relationships to sounds by creating a platform for women, nonbinary, and trans sound artists and engineers.

Street Rat is a visceral exploration of the mysteries of life. Attempting to bring heavy concepts to your reality, it is the eye on the ground that sees and translates all intersecting issues as they merge, explode, dissolve, and implode. Street Rat is Gladys Harlow's way of comprehending, coping, feeling, taking action, disrupting the status quo, and rebuilding our path.

All Power To The People originated as a recorded performance intended to demystify sound by revealing the tools, wires, and movements used to create it. All Power To The People evolved into an installation conceived specifically for this exhibition. The installation includes a theremin and oscillator built by Gladys, a tarot deck they made by hand, and books from the artist's personal collection, amongst other elements. Gladys has created a structure of comfort and exploration. They welcome all visitors of divine knowing to play with the instrument, flip freely through the books, and pull a tarot card to take home.

Phoebe Hart is an experimental animator and filmmaker. A majority of her work is centered around mental illness and the line between dreams and reality. Merry Go Round is a sculptural zoetrope that changes in shape and color as it spins. Its form is inspired by nature and its color by the circus. The video’s sound was produced by Hayden Waggener. It consists of reverbing chimes which are in rhythm with the stop animation’s movement; both oscillate seamlessly between serene and anxious states.

“I often don't plan the sculptures or objects I am fabricating, there is a vague image in my mind, and my hands take care of the rest. I find that sometimes overthinking is what can get me and other artists stuck. If I just abandon my judgments and ego, I can really let go and create work that feels like it came inherently from me.”

Powerviolets is the solo project of multi-instrumentalist Violet Hetson who is currently based in New York. After experiencing several false starts while bouncing coast to coast, recording and performing with several lineups, Hetson has finally released her debut album. ~No Boys~ namesake is a sarcastic sign she hung on her suburban CT teenage bedroom door. Violet Hetson grew up primarily listening to punk and hardcore. She parses elements of these genres with influences from bands such as X and Suburban Lawns. ~No Boys~ takes a softer, melodic approach to Hetson's punk roots. Powerviolets' music is linear, unconventional, dark, and airy with a sense of humor.

Mary Hunt is a fiber artist specializing in chain stitch embroidery. This traditional form of embroidery uses vintage machinery and thick thread to create fibrous art and embellishments. They use an approach called "thread painting," which requires each stitch to be hand guided by the turn of a knob underneath the table while the speed of movement is controlled by a foot pedal. Chainstitch works can take anywhere from 20 minutes to 200 hours, encouraging a slow and thoughtful process. Mary uses a Cornely A machine, made in Paris more than 100 years ago.

“I think we are sent messages and guidance constantly. Our intuition is simply our ability to clear the path for those messages. The largest obstacles on my artistic path are usually self-imposed negative thoughts. I simply do things to take care of my spiritual well-being, first and foremost, and the rest follows. If I can trust the universe, trust the process, then I am much more likely to listen to the messages sent my way.”

Jes the Jem is a multi-media artist working with acrylic, watercolor, mold clay, and whatever else she can get her hands on. She uses vivid color to bring joy into the lives of those who view her art. Jes the Jem has experienced a great deal of pain in her life. Through that unique displeasure, she has been gifted a nuanced perspective. She aims to energize the present while paying homage to the past events that shape us. In her art, her life, and her interpersonal relationships, Jes the Jem appreciates the gift of all of life's experiences.

“The pursuit of happiness and understanding is instinct.”

Pamela Kivi pieces together visual scraps she has saved over the years, choosing to fuse them at whatever present moment she sees fit. Her work reflects on creative mania, fleeting emotions, and memories. Pamela's collages are a compilation of unexpected elements that include: old notebooks, cut-outs, text messages or Facebook message conversations, nostalgic cellphone photos, and visual materials she has chosen to hold onto. She prints out, cuts up, scans, edits, repeats. Pamela's artistic practice is deeply personal. It is a submittal to the process of dusting things off until a reflection can be seen, all enacted without an attachment to the end result.

“I rely on intuition and whatever state of mind I am in to whisk me away. In life, I often confuse intuition with anxiety- when it comes to creative work, I can decipher the two.”

Through sobriety, Kendall Kolenik's focus has shifted toward self-discovery and shedding old adaptive patterns, a process that led her to a passion for helping others heal themselves too. In autumn, she will begin her Masters in Social Work at Columbia University.

“I love how when I'm painting my self-doubt becomes so apparent. Painting shows me exactly where my doubt lies, which guides me towards overriding it. When I paint something and lean into doubt, I don't like what comes out. When I take note of the resistance and go with my gut more freely, I love it. This reminds me of my yoga practice. What you practice on the mat is a metaphor for how you show up in life. By breathing through the uncomfortable poses on the mat, you learn to breathe through challenging life moments.

I think we all grow up learning to numb and edit ourselves. We are taught not to trust our feelings; we are told to look outside ourselves for answers when we already have a perfectly good compass within. Painting is an archway back to that for me - rediscovering self-reliance and faith in my first instinct. When I'm creating these rainbow squares, sometimes I move so fast it's like something else is carrying me. I sort of leave myself and enter a trance. Like how you don't have to tell the heart to beat or the lungs to breathe - thinking goes away and I can get so close to my knowing that I become it. I love how art allows me to access my love for ambiguity, interpretation, and an interpretation that feels closer to Truth. I find no greater purpose than guiding people back to safety and reconnecting them with themselves. The most important thing to ever happen in my life was when I stopped trying to deny my reality - listening to your intuition can be like a freefall - no one but you can ever know or tell you - it is a deep trust without any outside proof.”

Lucille Loffredo is a music school dropout, Jewish trans lesbian, and veterinary assistant doing her best to make sure each day is better than the last. Lucille tries to find the music rather than make it. She lets it tell her what it wants to do and what it wants to be. The Wandering EP was in part written as a way to come out to herself. She asks all listeners to please be gentle.

“Change will come, and it will be good. You are who you think you are, no matter how far it seems.”

Whitney Lorenze generally works without reference, making thick, graphic pictures with precise forms conceived almost entirely from her imagination. Images like a slowly rolling car crackling out of a driveway, afternoon sun rays shining through a cloud of humidity, or headlights throwing a lined shadow across a black bedroom inspire her.

“As it concerns my own practice and the creation of artworks generally, I would define intuition as the ability to succumb to some primal creative impulse. Of course, this implies also the ability to resist the temptations of producing a calculated or contrived output.”

Ellie Mesa began teaching herself to paint at the age of 15, exploring landscapes and portraiture. Her work has evolved into a style of painting influenced by surrealism where teddy bears will morph into demons and vice versa. Her work speaks to cuteness, the grotesque, and mystical beings. The painting "Kali" is an homage to the Hindu goddess of creation, destruction, life and death. This was Ellie's first painting after becoming sober and is an expression of the aforementioned forces in her own life. Through meditations on Kali, Elli has been able to find beauty in the cycle of love and loss.

“To me, intuition means doing the thing that feels right whether or not it's what you want it to be. When I'm painting or making a sculpture, I give myself the freedom to follow what feels right, even if that means starting over or changing it completely. I allow the piece to present itself to me instead of forcing something that doesn't want to be.”

Mari Ogihara is a sculptor exploring duality, resilience, beauty, and serenity as experienced through the female gaze. Her work is informed by the duality of womanhood and the contradictions of femininity. In particular, the multitude of roles we inhabit as friend, lover, sister, and mother and their complex associations to the feminine perspective.

“Intuition is an innate, immediate reaction to an experience. While making art, I try to balance intuition, logic, and craftsmanship.”

All Of Me Is War by Ames Valaitis addresses the subconscious rifts society initiates between women, estranging them from each other and themselves.

“It is an unspoken, quick, and quiet battle within me as the feeling of intuition purely, and when I am making a drawing. I am immediately drawn to poses and subject matter that reflect the emotion inside myself, whether it is loud or under the surface. If a line or figure doesn't move me, after working on it for a few minutes, I get rid of it. If something looks right to me immediately, I keep it; nurture it. I try to let go of my vision, let my instinct take hold. I mirror this in my life as I get older, choosing who and what to put my energy into. The feeling is rarely wrong; I'd say we all know inherently when it is time to continue or tap out.”

Chardel Williams is a self-taught artist currently living in Bridgeport. Her biggest inspiration is her birthplace of Jamaica. Chardel views painting as a method for blocking out chaos. Her attraction to the medium springs from its coalescence of freedom, meditative qualities, and the connection it engenders. rears.

“Intuition for me is going where my art flows. I implement it in my practice by simply creating space and time to listen. There are times when what I'm painting is done in everyone else's eyes, but I just keep picking at it. Sometimes I would stop painting a piece and go months without touching it. Then, out of nowhere, be obsessed with finishing. I used to get frustrated with that process, but now I go with it. I stopped calling it a block and just flow with it. I listen because my work talks.”

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leossmoonn · 4 years ago

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hii congrats on 1.4k!! can i request 🔮 for male marauders and golden trio era? my pronouns are she/her, i’m gryffindor, i laugh in situations i shouldn’t be laughing at, i’m very friendly and i act the same around a person i know for 5 minutes and a person i know for years, i’m loud when talking, i’m too kind for my own sake, i get annoyed easily but everyone says i’m funny then, i get nervous easily especially around a person i like and i get especially loud then, i love nature and swimming and i love dancing but i’m really bad at it,, thank you!!

thank you so much! yes yes of course!

male marauders ship - james potter

when james first heard your laugh, he immediately fell in love. he was in detention and had heard your laugh from outside the classroom. you were walking through the halls w marlene and dorcas as you all had a free period. james turned his head and fell even more as he saw your face. he then realised it was you, gryffindor prefect and top of all your classes. sirius had always thought you were a know-it-all, but james thought you were funny and pretty and he was determined to get to know you better.

so after detention, he went to his house to find you. luckily, you were studying w remus and lily. he walked up to you all suave and gave you a little smirk, to which you reacted by just staring at him while sweating profusely. little did he know, you also liked him. but ofc he didnt know that, not yet, so his smile faltered and he gave you a warm, polite smile instead and said “hi, y/n. i’m james potter. we have potions and DADA together.” he held his hand out for you to shake and you stared at it for a good few seconds before laughing. youre like “y-you, you know my name? ohmygod, haha- WOW. s-sorry, i-i’m not usually this um, giggly. HAHA” and james just grins and says “no worries love. do you mind accompanying to hogsmeade this weekend” and youre like “… alright…” and james is sooo happy hehe. “it’s a date!” he exclaimed before running up to his dorm to find sirius to tell him the good news. the wait for the weekend was painful for both of you, but def worth it.

you met him at the gates, looking beautiful as usual. james complimented you like 100 timed in the first 5 minutes, you were grinning like a child who just got their christmas wish. you two strolled around the town, james ending up buying everything for you 💀. you open up to him pretty quickly and you two bounce from topic to topic seamlessly. at the end of the night, you two were at hog’s head and (ik this sounds like a muggle thing but shhh) they had karaoke night and lily and remus sung a duet, to which james pulled you up from your seat in surprise. at first you're confused and are like "wth???" and james is like "dance with me, darling!" and you're like "HAHA NO" and james frowns and asks why and you pull him close and say "i'm horrible at dancing, james. althought i will admit, i love it," you chuckle. and james is like "perfect! here, i'll teach you, m'kay?" and you're not so sure but yk james won't let up so you follow him to the dance floor.

he puts your arms around his neck and he puts his hands on the middle of your back, not too high, not too low, and you two start dancing. james at first is impressed and is like "you're not half bad, l/n." but he's spoken too soon bc you then begin to step on his feet as you two sway faster. and he's like "OW OW OW!" and you pull away from him and is like "ah im so sorry. i didn't mean to :((" and he just shrugs, "it's alright. no worries. here, lemme teach you". and he takes you in his arms again. "just follow my lead, okay. relax and just feel the music. if you panic, just stop, look at my feet, and regroup, m'kay?" and you nod tentatively and he smiles and you two start swaying. for the first 3 minutes, your eyes are at his feet, watching his and making sure you don't trip again and hurt his toes. and a few minutes later, you are dancing like a pro! (you step on his feet still... but only a few times so its not that bad hehe).

male golden trio ship - fred weasley

fred made smth blow up in hagrid's face (bless his soul) and the whole class went silent except for you. fred and george were laughing, but they were keeping it quiet while you were literally honking. your whole face gets hot with embarrassment as you realise you're the only one laughing and everyone is staring at you. you look down in shame at your desk as you feel everyone's judging eyes on you. well, not everyone is judging hehe. hargrid ends up taking 15 points from your house, 10 for the prank, 5 for you laughing (oops...). hagrid continues class and everyone goes back to paying attention to him except for fred. he's staring at you the whollleeee time.

you're two grades below him (u two are 5th and 7th year but ill age u up to 16 instead of 15 since he’s 17:)) so honestly he's never really noticed you outside of the common room before. you are friends w ron tho so ofc he knows of you and has seen you around the school, but he's never really paid attention to you before until now. and he glad he finally did because you are gorgeousss. after class, he ends up approaching you and ofc you're starstruck bc your best friend's cool, funny, hot older brother is talking to you.

he's like "i noticed you were laughing at my prank. you think that was funny?" and his tone kinda makes you scared bc he's really serious, but you end up nodding really slowly. his serious face breaks into a happy one as he says "great! at least someone was amused. say, you're friends with my baby brother, right?" he asks. and you're like "um... yeah..." and he says "great! well, why don't you take a break from hanging out w my loser brother and hang out w me tonight? george and i are planning a few more pranks." your jaw drops to the mf floor and youre like “uh. um yeah… s-sure” and fred’s like “😁😁😁 GREAT. see u then, l/n!” and your heart goes 🦋🦋🦋 and youre like “alright.. see you then”

so like you tell your friends, harry ron and hermione, abt your plans and harry is like “cool cool. tell us how it goes!” and hermione and you are giggling abt you hanging out w a boy two years up from you. and ron’s like “yeah whateva. have fun ig🙄” and hes just jealous bc his cool olders brothers are stealing his best friend but you reassure him you’re still his bff and youll hang out w him after/the next day. A

NYWAYS so it comes time and you step into the common room, confused as there was no one there. so you go and sit on the couch to wait but as you sit down, fred’s face immediately emerges from nowhere and you literally trip over and fall into him (which youre freaked out bc you cant see his body) but the invisibility cloak drops and he puts his arms around you quickly and holds you up just as your abt to fall. and your faces are literally like millimeters apart. and you think youre abt to kiss but fred pulls away and helps stabilize you before grabbing his cloak. youre like all shy again and he just smiles and says hello and sits down in the couch. you follow him in suit and he explains what the invisibility cloak is. then he gets out all his toys and prank stuff and you’re honestly really interested and you even give him ideas for new pranks and yk he likes you like 1000 times more hehe.

you two end up talking for a few hours and you emerge out of your shell and fred is very happy bc he now sees like the real you. a few hours later and your curled up on the couch, head on his shoulder and youre about to fall asleep (super romantic). fred then mentions george and youre like “oh wait. how come he isnt here?” and fred’s like “hes w angelina. his gf” and youre like “oooh” and then you boldly ask “do you have a gf” and you lift your head up from his shoulder and your face is so close to his, not as close as before, but you can feel his breath on your lips. and he looks you in the eyes and is like “no” and youre like “do you like anyone?” and as he speaks he looks down at your lips, “yeah. i think i do” and you think you know its you bc well like, how can you not in this moment. and youre like “who?” and hes like “you” AND THEN (im sorry this shit is so long but im living the dream) he leans in and your lips touch and you kiss and its all 😍🦋😏😁😋😩🥰🤩😽👻. lol anyways you pull away and are like 😳 and fred is like 😏 “ill see u tmrw right?” and youre like “y-yeah…” and you watch as he stood up and collects his stuff and leaves you. once you know hes gone, you stand up and start squealing and jumping around hehe and you run upstairs to tell hermione.

next morning, fred finds you at lunch and asks you point blank if you wanna be his gf and youre like “yes duh.” and you two then become official! so even tho fred is a prankster and is always carefree and stuff, he does have a compassionate side that comes out when he feels need be. hes so supportive too and he treats you like a mf queen. he’ll literally buy you anything and will do anything for you. he also plays jokes on u which you get him back and hes very impressed w your creativity and boldness.

so during breaks and summers, you visit the burrow and you two often hang out outside near the willow tree in their yard. you two also go swimming in the lake (let’s pretend its a big lake not a pond lol). its super nice and relaxing especially on like 90 degree days where you two are melting. you two always are splashing each other and laughing loudly. sometimes you two just cuddle and drink pumpkin juice and talk about what fred is gonna do now that he’s outta school. tbh youre afraid that once you go back to school and youre apart, youll grow apart, but fred always assure you two that you wont bc you two are soulmates <3

hope you enjoyed this!

join my celebration!

#talia’s 1.4k celebration

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amydancepants-peralta · 5 years ago

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you remind me (just how good it can get)

aka, my response to @rosalitadiazz‘s prompt for #58 - “Here, take my blanket/jacket”. It’s just a sweet little moment that popped into my head, but I hope you enjoy! 💕

you remind me (just how good it can get)

Waving into the camera, Amy blows another set of kisses towards the video image of her son as Karen lifts his tiny (and adorably chubby, honestly she just wants to bite it!) arm out in a miniature wave. From behind her she hears Jake call out that he loves them both, and she echoes the sentiment while Jake wraps one arm around her waist, pulling her closer until her back rests against his chest. Together, they bid their son goodnight, and with one last wave Karen disconnects the call, the image of their little boy quickly replaced by the photo of the three of them leaving the hospital that takes pride of place on Amy’s screen.

Thanks to some diligent saving (and being under the command of a forward-thinking captain like Holt), Amy had been able to take the last few months off on maternity leave. In just three days she would be heading back to work, and while the FOMOW part of her was dying to button up her uniform again, there was a larger part of Amy that was just not ready to say goodbye to her little Leo for anything more than an hour or two.

Tonight had been a trial run, with Jake’s mom Karen volunteering to stay and babysit while he and Amy head out for a long overdue date night. It had felt kind of wonderful, to do her hair and makeup and blush when she notices her husband’s appreciative glances as he passes her in their bedroom. Seemed like forever since she’d felt his hand brush against the small of her back as she walked into a restaurant, or had brushed her feet playfully against his underneath the table.

The last phone call was only their third for the entire night - an admirable feat, considering both of them had nearly asked the other to turn around and head back home mere minutes after closing their apartment door (and maybe once more after their taxi pulled away from the curb). It had helped greatly that Karen had sent them hourly updates - a series of photos that only seemed to increase in cuteness the later into the evening they got - and after paying the bill Jake had gripped Amy’s hand in his, leading her out of the restaurant and suggesting one last call home before it got too late.

And now their son was about to go to sleep, and she wasn’t there to smother his face with kisses, and Amy felt like her heart was stretched across the boroughs of Brooklyn right now.

Running his hands up and down her shoulders, Jake brushes a kiss along Amy’s hairline, and with a sigh she tucks her phone back into her purse. “C’mon, there’s a gelato place up here that I’ve heard has a really good choc fudge.”

“Hold on, I just need ..” she pauses, turning towards Jake and waiting he’s facing her before wrapping her arms around his waist, holding herself tightly to him as she rests her head against his chest. The back of her hands skim against the soft, familiar material of his jacket lining, and Amy closes her eyes as his arms envelop her body and the total Jakeness of his embrace calms her pining heart.

He holds her as they stand together underneath the front awning that covered the restaurant’s expanse of windows, keeping his grip tight as Amy breathes in his cologne and sighs. The bustle of the city around them fades away, the click of a group of women’s heels relegating only to gentle ticks as they pass them by, and she buries her head further in.

She feels the vibrations in Jake’s chest as he speaks, his tone only slightly betraying his concern. “You okay, babe?”

Her cheek rustles against his shirt as she nods, the dark olive green button-down that has always been a favourite, and replies “I am now.” Tipping her chin upwards, Amy smiles up at her husband when his eyes lock onto hers. She hadn’t realised just how much she’d missed nights like this; whether it was gripping her husband’s arm as they walked down the street, or bathing in his smile from across the table as he talks. “We need to do this more often.”

“We really do.”

“Let’s make a new rule. One date night a month, minimum. We’ll swap shifts and plan out babysitters … merge our schedules and make it happen. Okay?”

Jake’s smile is warm, and his hands dip lower on her waist before sliding up towards her back, and it’s such a comforting feeling that Amy can feel herself begin to melt all over again. “Are you asking me to go steady with you, Santiago?”

Amy grins, moving her head into an enthusiastic nod. “But only for like … 70 years or so.”

“Noice. Let’s make it an even hundred.”

“Deal.” Her head falls back down to Jake’s chest, taking another deep breath in. The simplicity of this moment - of being wrapped up in the arms of the man she loves while the world goes on around them - was exactly what she had been craving. After months of next to no sleep and more nursery rhymes than she ever thought she’d know, it was nice to feel like a human being again.

“What do you say we grab some dessert, take a walk around the city for a little while, and then head on home to our son?” Jake mumbles, punctuating his sentence with another kiss into her hair.

Our son. Even with it now being a reality, the sound of those two words together still makes Amy beam. She nods, tightening her grip before pulling back ever so slightly, resting her hands against Jake’s chest. “So … our son. A lot of change around here, huh?”

His laugh bounces off of Amy’s chest and settles straight into her heart, the same joyful feeling she got the first time he laughed at something she said hitting the same now just as it did then, and her own laughter bubbles out of her as he slows down, sliding his thumb along the edge of her cheek. His eyes turn soft, drawing her in without any great effort, and it occurs to Amy that if their son ends up with his father’s eyes, she doesn’t stand a single chance.

“I love you,” Jake whispers, lowering his head to meet her halfway, pressing his lips against hers so sweetly that not for the first time Amy wonders how she ever survived without Jake’s kisses. His hand - always so strong and steady - slides up the middle of her back, and Amy responds by wrapping her arms around his neck, hooking him in as their lips press harder together. If only she could have told those two colleagues, in an evidence locker so long ago, just what kind of joy would be waiting for them both. She’s not sure she would have believed it then, just as it seems almost surreal now.

Their lips part, and as Jake rests his forehead against hers Amy replies, “I love you too, Jake.”

His hand slides along her arm as they pull away, gliding downwards until their palms meet and he tangles their fingers together so seamlessly it’s clear that’s where each of they belong, and Amy smiles at the thought as he leads them down the street.

Despite the long sleeves of her dress, the cool evening air hits her skin unannounced, and Amy shivers slightly. Jake’s hand grips hers tighter in response before pulling away entirely, and just as she looks over in protest Amy notices that he’s already in the process of shedding a layer of clothing.

“Here, take my jacket.” He smiles, already covering her back with the leather before Amy can say another world. The warmth of her husband’s touch washes over her, the scent of him lingering slightly as she grips the edges, running her thumbnail along the jagged teeth of the open zipper.

There’s a slight blush that begins to warm her cheeks, and Amy looks up at Jake with a grateful smile. He’s always looking out for her, picking up on what she needs sometimes before it’s even occurred to herself, and she knows that Jake considers himself lucky to be with her, but truly; she is the lucky one.

Jake breaks the silence with a tiny shrug, rubbing one hand along the back of his neck as he speaks. “Would it be totally insane if I told you just how much I miss Leo right now?”

“Oh heck no. I miss him so much it hurts.”

“He’s been so good with Mom. He really is the best baby.”

“The best,” Amy agrees, craning her neck upwards to meet Jake halfway as he leans in for another kiss. His jacket is draped over her shoulders, so she cannot reach out to grip Jake’s arm the way she’s done a thousand times before, but her hands sneak out from under the front and take a loose grip of his shirt, leaning in to whisper - “Why don’t we get our gelato to go and head on home … and maybe later, we can have our dessert.”

Jake’s eyebrows raise slightly as he reads between the lines, nodding quickly. “Sounds good, excellent plan, let’s do that, cool cool cool.”

His left hand slides around her waist as they walk just that little bit faster towards the gelato shop, discussing the all-important topic of which flavours are superior to the others, and Amy cannot wait for a thousand more moments just like this. For ice cream cones covered in sprinkles (for both Jake and their son); for walks in the park and play time on the swings … and with any luck, another chance to watch as a life begins to grow inside her.

Life was amazing, when you surrounded yourself with the right people, and with Jake by her side Amy was beginning to discover just how good it can get.

#peraltiago baby fluff #because who can resist these NOT ME #b99fics #Jake + Amy + baby makes three!#peraltiago fic #b99 fanfic #title from Vance Joy #b99fanfic #peraltiago baby #fluffy peraltiago baby happiness

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the-magic-lava-lamp · 5 years ago

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Friends With Benefits Play Truth or Drink - Sam & Bucky

Summary: Based off this Youtube series. Sam & Bucky, friends with benefits, must choose between the cold hard truth or a nice drink....

Words: 3,895

Ship: SamBucky (Modern AU - No powers)

—Cut—-

“On the count of three, name who likes who more?” Sam flicked the card between his fingers and with a roll of his eyes, took a peek towards the men behind the camera. As if he hadn’t agreed to film this video.

“1....2...”

Bucky opened his mouth with a small bashful smile-

—Cut—-

Bucky Barnes anxiously bounced his leg and waited for the ‘ok’ to start their introduction. It was Tony Stark (of course) who’d originally pulled them into filming this video. He’d been funding some kids project and the guy was so grateful that he offered Tony a fun part in a video he was doing for a small media company. Tony found that he loved the thing and suggested his good ol’ buddies come in too. Bucky suspected it was the fun aspect of pulling secrets outta people on camera that appealed to the man.

Blaine, the camera man, stood with a small grin behind a large camera and waved his thumbs up above.

“I’m Bucky.”

“I’m Sam, I’m a Virgo.” His companion smiled at him from across the small table filled with some nice choices of alcohol. “And we’re friends with benefits-”

{Blaine, the director, off camera: “What are the benefits?” }

Bucky looked off to the other side of the room as if he were a teenager again and attempted to avoid answering by putting his face into his cupped hands. But this only tossed the chance over to Sam, who could put intelligent sentences together so beautifully when he wanted to-

“Great sex.” Sam could barely get that out without succumbing to a childlike giggle fit.

Bucky rolled his eyes but smiled, nonetheless.

{Blaine: “How well do you know each other?”}

Bucky lifted his face and turned casually on his chair, like none of this really mattered and he was just plopping down for a normal lunch. “We’ve known each other since we were....” He gazed off and tapped his fingers to the table.

“Nineteen.” Sam nodded. “I met Steve,our mutual friend, during my freshman year of college. Bucky was his childhood best friend, right? So Steve was really hoping we’d get along when he finally introduced us.”

Bucky chuckled deeply and rolled his lips together. “And really hated each other.”

{Blaine, off camera: *Laughing* “Why?” }

Both men perked up like the topic was one of their favorites.

“I was threatened by him.”

Both of them spoke at the same time and earned a good five minutes of laughing.

“That and he was really annoying.” Sam added, turning directly to the camera for the first time. Though he immediately looked off, deciding it was too weird.

“He lived in his Van and spoke a maximum amount of six words to me whenever we had to hang out.” Sam gently slapped the man’s left hand which was curled on the table with a bit of a tight grip. Bucky was still carrying some insecurities involving his prosthetic arm.

“We basically bickered 24/7.” Bucky smiled as if that were a sweet thing to say. “But it was our thing. S’how we got closer, actually.” He shrugged.

{Blaine: “So you’re saying, hating each-other first was the secret to a good friendship?”}

“Yeah! So not only could I tell you where his moles are but I could also reveal all of his deep, dark childhood secrets which he told me as a friend.” Bucky winked and chuckled again which was always a wonderful sound. “My first real friend besides Steve.”

Their story was true. They had in fact been ‘Friends-with-benefits’ on & off for quite some time now. It had become something so natural and normal to their relationship. So much so that Sam almost forgot how it had been during those early days...almost.

It still shocked Sam how often Bucky could throw him off with comments like that. They came pretty few and far between but Bucky was a weird little shit when you got down to it. Behind all the mystery and charm was a true oddball. It was probably the reason why he’d drawn so much interest in the female gender. A lot of girls had adored him in the past and yeah, Bucky would flirt his ass off and all that jazz, but his chaotic personality would eventually take over.

—Cut—-

“Alright. I’m going first.” Sam smiled and reached over to the pile of question cards that Bucky had sort of been anxious about. It was as if Sam had sensed his friends hesitation.

He watched the reflection of his arm in the nearest alcohol bottle on the table and enjoyed the chilled breeze of air that came with Sam’s retraction. “Man, this is a classy way to start.” He smacked the card with the back of his hand.

“Where’s the weirdest place we’ve ever had sex?”

Bucky smirked. “Let’s go with the time that we did it in the backseat of Tony’s car. Remember? He was away and asked me to back it into his garage. Which was just a bad idea on his part-” Bucky turned back to the camera and pointed sharply. “Tony, sorry you had to find out this way.” He chuckled.

{Blaine: “Why was Sam with you if all you had to do was back it up?”}

“Dude’s gotta a nice car. I wanted to be there in case Bucky decided to go on a joy-ride.” Sam rolled his eyes and turned back towards him with the widest grin. “He’s mischievous like that.”

Sam blinked a few times and tried to play-off the admiring smile but the camera picked it up quite clearly. “There’s also the time we did it at that Roller-Rink..in the bathroom and you thought it’d be sexy to keep the skates on.” Sam shivered at the memory.

“That was a good one.” Bucky grinned. “Oh, but more recently, what about the time in Steve’s childhood bedroom?” He could barely finish without breaking out into easily spread giggles. “Damn. I really hope he doesn’t watch this.” He bit back another laugh, knowing full well that was a dumb-ass thing to wish for considering Steve was the number one fan of this video idea.

Sam shook his head. “Oh, but what about the time-”

{Blaine, laughing: “You guys gotta move to the next question”}

“Ok, ok.” Bucky reached over to the pile of cards and willed it to be something just as ridiculous as what Sam got. Part of him had thought the whole video could be a fun little thing to do but the other part of him was kicking himself for agreeing.

He turned the card over and felt a sharp sense of relief shoot through his gut and chest. He didn’t even fucking know if he wanted to hear the answer or not but at least it wasn’t something heavy.

“How would you rate my sex skills out of ten?” The card was laid back onto the table with gentle nerve twitching hands. It was a funny question, but it was also something Bucky was suddenly nervous about.

Sam pursed his lips and hummed just to annoy his friend. “I’m feeling pretty generous today...” He smiled, that special kind that was reserved only for teasing Bucky. “So, a fair three.”

Bucky kicked his leg from under the table like he was angry but he was more upset, if anything. He had to know it was a joke and in a sense, he did. But he was also easily insecure. “You’re not serious, are you?”

Sam widened his eyes. “No, of course not.” He began to chuckle to himself. “I’d rate you a ten on your eyes alone, Buck.”

Bucky tilted his chin, trying to hide a bashful smile. “Not this again.” He shook his head, the game of embarrassment was on.

Sam was smirking like a champion. “Those steel blue eyes, man.” He gestured. “Looking into them really centers you, calms you even.” His voice was dead serious but occasionally wiggled with laughter when Bucky shook his head. “Show the camera Bucky-” Sam laughed. “Give the people a stare-”

“Sorry, I don’t know what he’s doing.” Bucky smiled again and looked toward the camera.

{Blaine, laughing again: “What would you rate him, Bucky?”}

Sam immediately and seamlessly fell back into a lounge position and crossed his arms over his chest. “Go ahead, I’m not afraid.”

Bucky opened his mouth-

“Let me tell you something-” Sam interrupted him and laid his elbow on the table to gesture to the camera again. Bucky’s laughter mixed with the directors once again. “He’s gonna joke with you, that’s his thing. I shouldn’t have embarrassed him-”

Bucky giggled. “Let me tell you something, doll.” He returned the interruption. “You’ll wanna hear my rating.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, gentle smirk present. Sam made a ‘go-ahead’ gesture and made a show of listening.

“I’d rate you a...nine.” Bucky hide his smile behind a curled fist. Sam opened his mouth to comment but was quickly stopped. “I like nicknames during sex!” Bucky raised his chin and spoke that to the ceiling all while chuckling.

“Well, I like saying you’re name, Bucky.” Sam shrugged, as if that comment just came to him naturally.

Bucky had been preparing for a little fun ‘back-and-forth’ but found himself trying to will away a blush.

—Cut—-

Sam turned back to the table and picked a new card. “Oh, this is a good one to answer-...What are the terms of this relationship?” he set the card down and watched Bucky swallow a sip of one of the drinks.

He cleared his throat and leaned back. “It’s always been the kinda deal where...” Bucky let his hand float over the table. “We just kinda fall together-? It happens when it happens.” He swiped his tongue over his teeth in thought.

“We're just really into each other but there’s no strings attached. Never have been.” He scratched at the back of his neck and hoped that made sense. He didn’t want to come across as a dumb-ass.

He didn’t seem to notice the way Sam fluttered his eyes down to the floor and bit into his lip but once again...the camera did.

—Cut—-

So it was Bucky’s turn again to reach into the pile of cards. But just as soon as he read what he’d have to ask Sam, his casual act dropped for a moment as genuine amusement took over. “You can drink because I already know your answer to this.” He set the card down and leaned forward, elbows curled on the table.

{Blaine: “You gotta read the card, Bucky!”}

The director’s voice was teasing and gentle. He rolled his eyes and picked it up again. “What is something you’d like to change about me?”

There was a silent communication exchange then...or at least, it was attempted. The boys tried not to voice their words, seemingly because it was something amusing...or maybe serious?

“I’d like for you to be a little more open to sharing...” Sam’s tone wobbled as he tried his best not to slip into his therapeutic voice. “Concerning you know, your problems with communicating your problems with mental health” Sam rolled his lips together and never broke eye contact.

He hoped that was the most gentle way to phrase it, considering they were playing a drinking game on camera. “Little by little, you know? Never more than you’re comfortable with...” Sam shrugged.

{Blaine: “What would you change about him, Bucky?”}

He was clearly trying to keep the room calm and give them both a fair shot at the heavy question.

“I would change...” Bucky licked his lips and frowned. “I don’t know the word for it...but the way you’re blind to your own pain.” He felt the back of his shoulders twitch with anxiety. “You want to help me with my problems or Steve with his. So you end up almost too busy with other people that you forget about yourself. And what you’re dealing with.”

Sam nodded, taking in all the words with an openness that was just so natural to him. It was a trait of his that Bucky had always admired. Sam Wilson had no problem talking about delicate issues or his problems. What he had a problem with was taking care of himself first.

Bucky briefly wondered if that had turned into a fight, would Blaine have gladly filmed and posted that?

—Cut—-

Sam and Bucky scooted close to the table once again, looking much more relaxed.

Sam reached forward and stole a card with a small smile.“On the count of three, name who likes who more?” He flicked the card between his fingers and with a roll of his eyes, took a peek towards the men behind the camera. As if he hadn’t agreed to film this video.

“1....2...3”

Bucky opened his mouth with a small bashful smile-

At the exact same moment, both spoke their answers.

“Me.”

{Blaine: “Wow, you have come a long way from hating each-other, huh?”}

The two men paused to give each other a little look before bursting into fits of laughter.

Sam came back from throwing his head back and mocked a frown. “Dude, don’t lie. You gotta know that it’s me. I’m always the one who suggests getting together and...y’know.”

Bucky shook his head in that jovial yet shy way that Sam adored so much. That blushed smile was on his face too. It always reminded Sam of a reserved cat jumping on one's lap. “But I’m so clingy! You invite me over to...do our thing. And I end up staying for like a fucking week.”

Sam had to chuckle once more. He did love that about the other man.

“I’m the one who made the first move, sweetheart.” Bucky added that as a mumbled afterthought just to get Sam’s goat.

Sam exaggerated a gasp. “You did not! I did! You’re getting cocky, man. Trying to claim all the cute shit in this...” he paused to think “thing.” he gestured between them. “As your own. But you were way to shy to ‘make a move’.”

They were pretty sure Blaine wasn’t going to keep their whole play-fighting session in the video but nonetheless, they kept their little game up for as long as they could before moving on.

—Cut—-

Bucky chose his next card and wondered if either of them were ever going to jump outta answering a question with one of those drinks anytime soon. He read over the question and tried to hide another fucking blush. “Would you ever want to have a threesome with me?” He slid it away and hid his face.

“No.” Sam shook his head a few times, crossing his arms and smiling.

“Great answer.” Bucky leaned back on his chair and let go of a relieved chuckle.

{Blaine: “Not for you guys? Why’s that?”}

“Take that one, doll.” Bucky smiled.

“First of all, Bucky and I like music for...atmosphere.” Sam gestured and let his hands fall next to the line of drinks. He glanced over the table to his friend and found it hard to resist a grin. “We’re very particular on the soundtrack. Adding another person would-...” He wiggled his hand around chaotically.

“Midnight with the stars and you...” Bucky mumbled, in the voice of some old timey crooner, just for his friend.

Sam burst into laughter. “See, he got me into having sex with that creepy song from ‘The Shining’! No one else would be into that.” Sam took a quick drink for fun and swiped under his chin. “I’m more of an Earth, Wind & Fire guy, myself.” He shrugged and leaned back.

“I think we’d just annoy a third person.” Bucky giggled, behind his curled fist. After a few seconds, he started up that ol’ singing voice again. “Tie a yellow ribbon 'round the ole oak tree...”

{Blaine: “Really? That song?”}

Sam and Bucky just continued to laugh.

—Cut—-

Sam flicked his next card between his fingers a few times before reading it aloud, stomach a little tight with curiosity. “Does it hurt your feelings when I sleep with someone who isn't you?” He asked softly before setting it down.

Bucky fluttered his eyelashes and swallowed. His eyes spoke volumes of stress and anxiety that Sam could read quite clearly. For a moment or two, it looked as if Bucky might take a drink instead of answering (which was basically an answer itself, in Sam’s opinion) but thought better. “To my knowledge, you haven’t slept with anyone else since before my accident?” Bucky nervously fiddled with his left arm.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I haven’t.” He gave Bucky a small smile.

There was a few seconds of quiet.

{Blaine: “If you don’t mind Bucky, how did this accident happen? You don’t have to answer.”}

Bucky shrugged, he expected that question to come up. “Well, I lived in my Van for a while cause I wasn’t going to school and I liked to travel. I always figured it’d be easier to get away in that situation. And Steve was going to school...without me, which was kinda hard for me.” He explained.

“But more time passed and I just kept hanging around & working jobs. Then I met Sam.” Bucky tipped his head in Sam’s direction. “And another excuse was born. I didn’t want anyone stealing by best friend while I was gone, childish I know.” He pursed his lips. “Steve somehow got a parking pass for his & Sam’s building for my van so that I could keep parking there.”

The disappointment in himself was clear. Sam gently kicked his leg, which earned a little smile. “My van is where Sam made the first move.” He blushed a little before frowning. “Anyway, that’s all unnecessary background.”

Bucky was 100% most of this would be cut, so he felt a little less anxious. “During their Junior Year, I was driving over to their place and some big-ass truck totally blew a red light and smashed into my Van. Lost my arm, my ride and my home.” Bucky chuckled like he could laugh about it now.

Sam gestured for a little break-

—Cut—-

Bucky looked much happier as he picked another card. “I’m gonna lighten’ things up, promise.” He gave a charming smile but not before looking at Sam for a few moments.

“F-...This is embarrassing” Bucky hid his face in his hands which only served Sam the option to reach out and pull his arms away.

“Go on! Read your question. It’s what you signed up for.” Sam happily leaned back on his chair.

“Read the last booty-call I sent you.” Bucky mumbled, clearly blushing in pure embarrassment. Sam giggled and slid out his phone.

“Is it that embarrassing though? You don’t really send them all too often.” Sam began scrolling through their conversations, Bucky following along on his own device just to prepare himself. “I'm the one who does that.”

Bucky shrugged. “I like it that way.” He winked, though they both knew it was because he could be so utterly shy sometimes.

He completely missed the amused yet admiring glance from Sam. “Ok. You read one of mine instead.” He shook himself out of his frozen little moment of pure adoration with a dazzling smile.

Bucky chuckled. “Nah, no...find one of mine.” He insisted and continued to scroll on his own phone.

“This is my personal favorite text I’ve ever received.” Sam smacked a hand to his chest. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Let’s have sex after I get back from the Deli....” Sam held up a finger. “And he then adds, two minutes later-” He smirked. “But I was just at the dentist about an hour ago...so my mouth might still be numb from the wisdom tooth he just pulled & I might get blood on your dick.”

Sam could barely hold himself together by the end. He curled over and laughed into the table, clutching his stomach as Bucky giggled. “Oh man. Like..-I wanna frame that shit, Bucky.” He wiped his eyes of tears.

Blaine’s laughter sounded from behind the camera.

—Cut—-

{Blaine: “Do you guys have any burning questions for each other-?”}

“Why aren’t you looking at me as much in this interview-?” Bucky immediately asked before anyone could think and Sam folded forward in hysteric laughter.

“I can’t look at you.” Sam shook his head. “You got your side of the table, I have mine.” He shrugged, smiling widely.

Bucky smugly chuckled. “I can’t wait to watch this video back.”

Sam shook his head again. “Steve is gonna have a lot to say about it.”

“Ooooooh, Steve. I forgot.” Bucky gasped before falling into giggles again. “He’s gonna LOVE our oversharing.”

Sam and Bucky burst into laughter once again.

—Cut—-

Sam reached out for another card and swallowed. “Last question, Buck. You ready?”

Bucky nodded, arms resting on the table and a look of determination on his face. He spared a fleeting glance to the alcohol sitting on the table and realized they’d not really put it too much use. He allowed himself to feel good about that fact.

“Why would it be bad for us to be in a committed relationship?” His friend asked in a low-tone before tossing the card into his used pile.

They were quiet for a few seconds before a gentle looking Sam spoke. “I don’t think it would be bad...do you?” He tipped his chin towards Bucky, who looked a little uncharacteristically nervous.

Bucky did that little head-shake again but much softer. “No, I don’t think it would be bad. A little chaotic but...no-not bad.”

{Blaine: “So you both seem to agree, why do you think you two never talked about it?”}

Bucky bit into his cheek. “I’m not the best at talking openly and honestly about my feelings.” He did a half amused frown and looked to Sam.

"I can be a real idiot.” Sam smiled. “Bucky seemed closed off...so I just dropped that idea. Focused my energy on other things...guess it kept me busy enough to avoid my own feelings.” He shrugged.

{Blaine: “Do you still view the relationship as casual?”}

They did that weird little mind-conversation again before throwing each other small grins.

“I think we deserve a little cheers?” Sam flowed forward as he slid his clutched palms down his legs and titled his chin towards the bottles.

Bucky debated that for a moment or two.

{Blaine: “Not gonna share that moment with the audience then, huh?”}

Sam and Bucky looked to each other again with the excitement of two friends thinking the exact same thing at the same time. “Nah.” Their heads shook and splayed out their hair a little.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Sam agreed and slowly reached over for his glass. “Instead-” He chuckled. “Buck and I are going to have ourselves a little cheers and go home.”

Bucky smiled and felt himself perk up as Sam poured small drinks for each of them and raised his own glass.

“To SFDD” Bucky clinked and admired Sam’s quirked brows.

“SFDD? What’s that?”

Bucky looked at him like it was obvious and then smirked. “Same fuck, different day.”

Sam spit out most of his drink onto the crisp white table and nearly choked on the laughter.

#sambucky #marvel #sam wilson #Bucky Barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon #Winter Solider #Steve Rogers #tony stark #my fanfiction #The Avengers

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kangaracha · 5 years ago

Note

writer’s cut on new dawn new day kitchen scene?

Read New Dawn, New Day here.

---

Okay well this whole fic was the first thing I wrote for the zombies fandom so first and foremost, this was just a way to play with the characters and see which ones I connected with and whatever. This scene in particular was just a little scrap of nothing I’d scribbled down at some point that got lengthened and added on to the end of this mostly to get the football conversation in cause I hadn’t managed to fit it anywhere yet, and also to have a crack at Bonzo because I felt bad for leaving him out.

So it starts with this conversation about Zed playing football - I really wanted to have this in here somewhere because earlier in the fic I’d alluded to football being Zed’s main reason for wanting to go to school in Seabrook, and the movie makes it quite clear that football is a big passion of his...and it seemed fair that Eliza would have some Opinions on this, and those were entertaining to write.

I also really enjoyed dipping into the lore surrounding food in Zombietown and what zombies can and can’t eat - in this fic, they’re having a ‘special breakfast’ of pineapple and beans (which, according to google, isn’t that weird of a meal, even though it seems fairly weird to me xD). Eliza is shocked to see the pineapple, and explains that pineapple isn’t something that regularly shows up in the Zombietown food rations. I have a lot of thoughts on what food and diets might be like in Zombietown, which I won’t really get into here, but I did enjoy the opportunity to mention a few of my headcanons on the subject and I’d really like to find a way to explore that topic further in a fic someday.

They go back to their conversation about clubs at school - Bonzo mentions music club, and then that gave me the opportunity to have Zed mention computer club to Eliza as a way to convince her to go to school with him - this was an important moment to get in there, at this point in the fic, as up until now, Eliza had been pretty adamant she didn’t want to go to Seabrook and would not, and I wanted this to tie back into the movie seamlessly, so I needed Zed to sweeten the pot and convince her by the time I was done.

Zevon’s next line was an important one too; “You are not stealing things from the human’s school, Zed Necrodopoulis!”. I really had this idea of Zed and Eliza being the wild and reckless type of kids, and I particularly wanted to explore the idea of Zed being a bit of a teenage deliquent - not in a super criminal asshole way, just the like, sneaks out at night, breaks into places just for fun, can’t be controlled by his parents, kind of way. I mention a character who really IS a teenage criminal earlier, Izaiah, and I mention that Zed sometimes gets caught up in his shenanigans, and I really like this particular idea I’ve built of Zed here - he’s still himself, still a goof and kind and funny and everything we love about him, but he’s not an angel.

I feel like this also helps to explain his and Eliza’s friendship too, because she’s this activist type, she’s loud and she’s opinionated and she’s not here for boring people - and Zed is reckless and always working on his next ‘great’ idea (bouncing off of concrete anyone), and he’s not necessarily bound by the confines of the law.

And then there’s the part where she throws a bean at him and he eats it which I know is one of your favourite lines, and is also probably my favourite line.

What I don’t like about this scene in particular is how it jumps back and forth from Eliza’s perspective, to Zed, back to Eliza. I’m only just catching that now while I’m rereading and it....bothers me. Also, there’s no consistency with Bonzo’s speech - it was supposed to all be in English italicised even though he’s speaking Zombietongue, but then there’s one line unitalicised in English and one line written straight up in Zombietongue which is highly confusing for readers. That’s just me being lazy, I specifically remember being like ‘I should go back and fix Bonzo but I don’t care’ so. Here we are.

The end of this scene (and the fic) was a last minute thing and it turned out really solid. I feel like it was a really nice way to encapsulate Eliza’s personality, it rounds off the fic well, and it finishes Eliza’s development from ‘fuck no I’m not going to human school’ to ‘maybe I’ll give it a go’. Good job me.

This is really long and probably really boring. Oops. Anyway.

#new dawn new day #zombiedadthoughts

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real-good-now · 7 years ago

Text

Letters to Juliet: Chapter 2

Summary: Betty Cooper dreamed of falling in love. She once thought it would be with the red-headed boy next door until he met the mysterious brunette in the pearl necklace.So, when she begins to receive anonymous love letters, she turns to the only person she knows who is not grossly in lust: her childhood best friend, Jughead Jones.

Chapter begins below the cut

I sit there and let the minutes pass by as I try to process the note I have just received. A love letter? To me? It can't be real, right? No one could possibly be this enamored with me. It's impossible. The feelings in this letter are reminiscent of the love in a Shakespearean sonnet, but I am not a romantic heroine. I am Betty Cooper: boring, blonde, and generic with way too much baggage for any high-school-aged boy to ever take on. My thoughts cannot linger too long on the letter, though, because Jughead enters the office. "Whatcha got there, Betts?" I jump a little in my seat, replying with a curt "Nothing" and quickly shoving the letter into my bag, to be dealt with at another time. "Wow, Betty, that's not suspicious at all..." He takes his spot at the table across from me and opens up his laptop. "I guess, after all of these years of friendship, you really can't trust me. You know what they say: secrets, secrets are no fun..." "...unless you share with everyone!" I finish. "Yeah, yeah, I know what they say but I also don't understand how a wordsmith like you could possibly agree with a statement that defies the very definition of a secret, Mr. Jones."

“Touché, Ms. Cooper. Touché,” he says, nodding at me with his signature smirk.

This is always one of my favorite parts of the day.

For the most part, my school days are pretty routine. I show up early. I tutor or speak with my teachers. I go to homeroom, where I catch up with Archie or get harassed by my darling cousin, Cheryl. Then are classes, where I drown myself in my work and immerse myself in equations and stoichometry. Lunch with V and Kevin follows, where they gossip and I nod along like I can keep up with the drama. More classes. Cheer practice where I try to keep up with the squad. Home to do homework and make dinner. Then I prepare myself to do it all over again.

The only thing that breaks up the monotony is my time at the Blue and Gold. Here I have a purpose. Here I am a leader. Sure, it is a high school newspaper with only one writer besides myself, but it is something that I take pride in.

Plus, Jughead’s presence doesn’t hurt.

He is funny, smart, and sarcastic. We work seamlessly as a detective duo and when it comes to our editor/journalist relationship, we are a well-oiled machine. He challenges me mentally and makes me strive to be a better editor because I want to make him a better writer. It is his way out of this town and, if anyone deserves a break from the bad hand they were dealt, it is him. His mother left with his only sister a couple years ago and all he has is his dad, who wasn’t reliable as an adult, let alone a father for quite some time. He also had to serve his time in prison when his role in the cover up of Jason Blossom’s murder was brought to light, leaving Juggie orphaned and forced to stay with the Andrews’ for a while.

We have an easy friendship and our time in the Blue and Gold office only brings us closer. He genuinely cares about me and I, him. He makes me smile, even when I am feeling down on myself. He listens to my worries and eases them with the wave of a hand and a warm hug. In return, I am the only person he is able to completely open up to about his home life. We just get each other.

“You okay?” He asks.

“What? Fine! I’m fine. Just zoned out a little.” As try to refocus my attention back to our latest issue that goes to print at the end of the week, I remember this morning. “Hey, I saw you talking to Veronica this morning and it looked pretty intense. What was that about?”

The question seems to take him by surprise and he stutters a few times before settling on, “Oh, it was nothing. Just something about Archie she need for her anniversary gift or something.” He still squirms in his seat but isn’t willing to elaborate, so I let the topic go. It couldn’t be that important and I’m not about to push him into being any more uncomfortable than he already is.

We settle into a comfortable silence for a while as he works on his latest expose on the slow shrinking of cafeteria servings and how it goes back to inflation and I play around with the formatting of my letter from the editor and Kevin’s monthly gossip column.

I leave school feeling lighter than I did when I came in the morning but the weight of the note making my backpack feel a million times heavier.

I mindlessly float through dinner with my parents and quickly finish my homework before I take residence on my bed and pulling out the slightly crumpled piece of paper that has been in my thoughts since it fell out of my locker this morning.

I read it through a few more times, trying to really direct it, discover any clue about its author before I give up and resolve myself to it remaining a mystery forever.

Then a thought pops into my head. Of course I am having a hard time doing this by myself! I may have a disposition toward being a private investigator after I graduate college, but I work best when I have someone to bounce my ideas off of. I need someone detached from the whole situation. Someone who can take the clue for what it is: a clue. All of my hopelessly devoted friends would see it as an opportunity to set me up.

Except one.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I pull up my phone and open my messages app.

Betty: I need your help.

I wait rather impatiently for it to ding with the tell-tale signal of a response. Within the minute, the screen lights up with a new message.

Juggie: Whats up?

I carefully consider my words before landing on a decisive explanation.

Betty: I got an anonymous love letter in my locker this morning. I want to find its sender so that I can assess its sincerity.

The next response doesn’t come as quickly as the first, but it is clear he is carefully considering his words. I begin to regret asking him something so absurd when he sends something back.

Juggie: And I come in where…?

I breathe a sign of relief at his intrigue and send off four messages in rapid succession.

Betty: I can’t be objective in this situation.

Betty: And I work better when I work with you. Please!

Betty: Pretty please with a cherry on top!

Betty: I’ll treat you to Pop’s when we find him!

I guess the last promise does the trick because he agrees and we exchange a few back-and-forths about what I know so far and when we can discuss the next stages in our investigation.

Before I know it, it is midnight and my usual sleep schedule that accommodates a full 8 hours is completely ruined. I note the time and my increasingly-frequent yawns and wish him good night before shutting my bedside lamp and drifting off with thoughts of my beanie-wearing bestie and my newly-realized secret admirer.

I arrive at school with a sugar-filled frozen coffee (that would cause my mother to faint if she knew) and a smile on my face with the gears turning for Project Not-So-Secret Admirer.

(Title in Progress.)

I arrive at my locker and take a cleansing breath before entering the combination and looking inside.

There lies another letter, this time accompanied by a beautiful, fresh gardenia.

To my Juliet,

I don’t doubt that you wish to find out my identity and my intentions.

Well, my identity will not be revealed for your own sake.

I do not wish to court you or have you on my arm. You do not need to be on anyone’s arm, for your strength and quiet power speaks above even the loudest of voices. I do not possess even a fraction of your intelligence or talent. Instead, I am willing to repress my feeling deep inside the prison of my mind because I lack the courage to even approach this subject with a woman like you. I could never burden you with the difficulties of my own life and I lack the means that you deserve to be provided. You have no need, of course, for someone to provide for you, but you deserve to be taken care of. Unfortunately, the person to do that is not me.

I guess that leaves the explanation of my intentions.

I have seen you deflate recently. You seem to carry a heavy burden on your shoulders and do not possess some of the courage and lightness that once made your eyes sparkle. Your radiance seems to be glaringly apparent to everyone but you.

With these letters, I wish to show you how you look through another pair of eyes. I see just how amazing you truly are and I wish to share my vision of the one and only Betty Cooper with you. I want that confidence to return and mirror the person it comes from.

I love you, Betty Cooper.

I just wish that you would love yourself as much as I do.

Always and forever yours, Your Romeo

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #riverdale #letters to juliet #Forevereverdeen

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mybullshitsensesaretingling · 7 years ago

Text

It’s All Pros

Request: Can you please do a peter quill imagine where the guardians come down to earth and meet the avengers? the reader is part of the avengers. when the guardians are having a "meeting" with the avengers, Y/N comes down singing one of the songs from the awesome mixes. and peter falls head over heels and it's all very fluffy. thank you.

Few people had actually seen the inside of Avengers tower. There was a few SHEILD agents, Sam Wilson’s mom, Pepper, and the occasional other hero. Most civilians weren’t completely sure what the point of it was. About one third of the population assumed they all lived there. Another third thought it must be for training and team bonding exercises. And the last third didn’t care what it was for and simply thought it was an eye sore. The truth of the matter is that they were all right; the team did often spend their nights there and they did have a training room and it was a bit of an eye sore. But aside from all that, it held another purpose that wasn’t often fulfilled, a meeting place for other heroes and teams, but today that was the main purpose of the tower.

“How long do you think it will talk you to repair your ship?” Steve asked, leading the Guardians into the living room.

“Two days,” Rocket told him.

“I am Groot.” Groot had to stoop in order to fit in the hallway, which resulted in a long shadow being cast over most members of both teams.

“Yes, I can,” he shot back.

“Most of this you won’t be able to find on Earth,” Tony said, looking over the list of equipment they needed. “But I’ve got something better.”

“I doubt it,” Rocket grumbled.

“Whatcha got?” Peter asked.

“You ever hear of a technopath?” Tony grinned.

“Of course. What kinda idiot doesn’t know what a technopath is?” Peter leaned back towards Gamora and in a hush voice asked, “What’s a technopath?”

“It’s someone who can manipulate technology, dumbass,” Clint told him, shuffling past the group and dropping down onto an arm chair in the living room.

“No one manipulates my ship, but me.” Rocket thrust a thumb towards his chest.

“It is not your ship,” Gamora grumbled, taking a seat on the couch.

“You can trust your ship with them. They’re the best at what they do,” Steve told them.

“IF YOU LIKE PINA COLADAS,” a loud voice sang from the hall, “AND GETTIN’ CAUGHT IN THE RAIN! IF YOU’RE NOT INTO YOGA!”

“And here’s the respected professional now,” Natasha snorted.

Peter couldn’t help but smile as he watched you dance into the room. You didn’t seem aware of the room’s occupants as you continued singing the lyrics to Escape, whipping what looked to be oil and grease from your hands and moving your feet to a beat only you could hear.

While Peter had always been a sucker for cheesy 80’s movies and the concepts that came with them, he had never really believed in love at first sight. Lust at first sight? Sure. Annoyance at first sight? Absolutely. But love? Just wasn’t realistic. Then again, Peter had a problem with being unrealistic.

When you saw Tony, your singing quickly changed to excited, fast paced speech, “Tony! Just the billionaire playboy I was looking for. We need to talk about the jet. I-” The rest of your sentence got lost as you finally became aware that the room was full of faces you didn’t recognize. A blush rose to your cheeks and you realized they must have heard you singing.

“What about it?”

“There are people here,” you said quietly.

“Yes,” he said briskly. “What did you do to my jet?”

“Non-Avenger people,” you clarified.

“Uh huh. What did you do to my jet, (Y/N)?” Tony repeated.

“Why is there a tree with a face in the living room, Tony?” You used your entire arm to gesture at him.

“I am Groot.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Groot,” you smiled politely before turning back to Tony and Steve. “Who is Groot?”

“These are the Guardians,” Steve explained. “We told you about them. Their ship broken down. We’re helping them out.”

“Guardians…” You thought about it for a second, before gasping, “Their space ship?”

“Yeah, and you can’t touch it,” Rocket said, crossing his arms.

“Don’t worry I won’t,” you smirked. “What’s wrong with it?”

The moment the space ship became the topic of conversation, your attitude shifted. The redness across your cheeks faded, you stood up straighter, you exuded confidence. This was your element and Peter could help be sit up and take notice.

Tony handed over the diagnostic report. Looking it over you nodded.

“You, cute guy.” You glanced back up.

Peter gestured at himself questioningly.

“Yeah, you. Take me to the ship.” You returned your attention to the screen. “The racoon can come to. But I’m liable to smack you if you get snippy ‘bout the ship.”

“I ain’t a racoon.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you said dismissively. “We’ll discuss the jet when I get back. I didn’t break it. Pinky promise.”

“You better not have,” he huffed as you started towards the door, waving for the others to follow.

“Do I wanna know what happened,” you asked, starting down the hall they had just come from, “or is it gonna make me weep for your poor ship?”

“It’ll make ya weep,” Rocket said bluntly. “Dumbass here don’t deserve her.”

“They never do,” you agreed, folding the tablet under your arm. “Are you gonna tell me your names or should I just call you Gaurdian one and two.”

“Starlord.”

“Starlord?” you repeated. “You’re a lord of a star?”

“It’s an outlaw name. It’s cool,” he sounded slightly exasperated like he was going very tired of having to explain this to people.

You shook your head. “I’m not calling you that.”

“Fine. Peter Quill and that’s Rocket.”

You looked down at the not-a-raccoon. “You know, somehow that makes sense.”

“Thank you.” Rocket crossed his arms, clearly not ready to forgive you for being able to fix the ship better than he could. But he followed you into the elevator without any other signs of protest.

“I’m assuming your ship’s on the landing pad,” you said hitting the button for the roof without waiting for an answer.

“Yeah,” Peter confirmed.

You let out a low whistle as you exited the elevator. You had to hold up a hand to shield your eyes from the light reflecting of of the metal of the ship as you moved further out onto the pad.

“Can you fix it?” Peter asked.

“Piece of cake,” you told him, confidently. “Damn. Now I want cake.”

“And you don’t need anything? Tools? Blueprints?” he offered.

“Got everything I need right here.” You pointed to your head and opened the door with a snap of your fingers. The snap was unnecessary, but you liked to put on a show for guests.

“Show off,” Rocket grumbled.

You smiled at him before slipping seamlessly into work mode. Your expression became neutral, professional. Holding the list up, you went over it again, before handing it to Rocket.

“Tell me what you don’t have the parts to fix. I’m not an endless source of energy.” You walked through the threshold, but popped your head back out almost immediately. “You live like this?”

“Yes.”

You gave Peter a disgusted face and moved further into the cabin. Rocket stepped quickly behind you.

“Hey! Where do you think you're goin’?” Rocket shouted.

“I thought I’d start with the engine. It’s that way, right?” You pointed to the back of the ship.

“Yeah, but-” he started, but you cut him off.

“Don’t you have some trash to dig through?” you asked, moving past the common area to the back of the ship.

“Don’t you have some bad music to listen to?” he retired.

“Everybody likes Escape,” you and Peter said at the same time.

“Except Steve,” you added, “but that’s just because ‘adultery is morally wrong.’”

“You’re not supposed to listen to the lyrics,” Peter pointed out.

“Right?” You focused on the engine. Slowly pieces detached, moving out into the open space and floating in mid air.

“I feel like I’m seeing parts of the Milano she doesn’t want me to see,” Peter said, watching you in awe.

“Don’t worry,” you smiled, moving around the tech to inspect it, “I asked her first. She’s cool with it.”

“I told you not to touch,” Rocket snapped.

“Do you see me touching anything?” You looked down at him and put your hands on your hips.

“You’re touchin’ it with your mind. It’s worse.”

“Do you want me to stop? I can stop,” you offered. “You ship will just stay broken and you’ll be trapped here forever.” You leaned towards him, looking at him with an intense gaze. “And Earth is terrible.”

“Rocket, why don’t you go fix the nav,” Peter suggested.

Crossing his arms and mumbling under his breath, Rocket trudged away, towards the stairs.

You slowly made your way through each broken piece, fixing it and then moving on to the next. Peter watched you attentively, completely fascinated. Every time you would successfully fix something your face would light up and his heart would melt just a little more.

Dropping down to a nearby chair, he began regaling you with tales of the great adventures that had lead to parts of the ship being damaged. You were completely engaged in each one despite your unwavering focus on the job at hand. He had never had someone listen to him the way you did or laugh with him instead of at him. Whenever the conversation switched to the missions you had had and the stunts you had pulled, Peter felt that he could listen to you talk for hours.

Just as your concentration was starting to falter and your frustration starting to build and voice from the entrance of the ship called out, “Hey, kid.”

You turned to see Clint standing just outside the ship. Neither you nor Peter had noticed that it had gotten dark out until then.

“Break time. You’ll pass out if you don’t eat something.” He held up a box for you to see.

“Hell yeah! Pizza!” you cheered, bouncing to the door. The ship parts clattered to the floor behind you as you lost you focus.

Peter stared at the pile, wondering momentarily if he should pick it up or remind you that it was delicate machine, but instead he announced that he was going to go check on Rocket and make sure that he wasn’t making everything rodent sized. Again.

Putting your hands on either side of the pizza box, you gave Clint a suspicious look. “How much of it did you eat?”

“None. Why do you always assume I ate some?”

“Because you always do,” you pointed out

“It’s not like you need a whole pizza,” he argued.

“I’m just saying that if you come in here presenting a whole pizza box to me, there should be a whole pizza inside.”

“You know, I don’t have to bring you pizza.”

“I know. Sorry.” You took the box from him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Clint looked in the direction that Peter had gone, and his expression darkened. “Be careful with that guy, (Y/N).”

“So I shouldn’t take him up on his offer to swan dive off the side of the roof?” you joked.

“I’m serious. He was a criminal. He might be a hero now, but that shit sticks with you.”

“You would know,” you said, opening the lid to the box.

“Yeah, I would.” His tone made you look up at him. “Just don’t go galavanting off to the stars just because he smiles at you, okay?”

“I won’t.” You thought about it for a second. “Maybe. Maybe I won’t. I mean, if he asks, it’s not like I’m not gonna think about. But it’ll be because of ass.”

“Oh, well, then it’s fine,” he smiled, going back to the cheery attitude you were used to.

“No one’s making you eat any ‘nasty Tarren food’, man. Stop yelling,” Peter said, coming down the stairs. “Hey.” His head appeared next to your shoulder. “Man, I haven’t had pizza in years.”

“Half of this is all yours,” you smiled.

“Half minus this piece,” Clint grinned, taking a piece from the box and making a run for it.

“Are you kidding me, Clint? You’re the worst,” you yelled after him, before turning to Peter. “Come on.”

“Where’re we goin’?”

“You get to look at the stars everyday, but when was the last time you got to see the New York city lights in all their glory?” you asked over your shoulder, leading him around the ship.

“Never. I grew up in Colorado.”

“Well, you get to see them now.” You stopped just shy of walking of the side of the building.

“Wow.”

“Not as cool as the stars though, is it?” you asked.

“Nothing is.”

“You can’t even see the stars here,” you complained, sitting down. “Too much ambient light.”

“I could take you too see them,” he offered.

“Why don’t we start with sharing this pizza, Walkman.” You set the box down next to you and held up a piece. “Then we’ll talk about leaving the atmosphere together.”

He dropped down beside you, leaving the box in between you and picked up a piece of his own. “Sounds fair.”

“How’d you end up in space anyways?” you asked.

“I was kidnapped as a child by a bunch of aliens who wanted to eat me.”

“Yeah, sure. Don’t know why I didn’t just assume that,” you joked.

“You really should have. It’s pretty obvious,” he chuckled. “What’d about you?”

“World went sideway, I built some weapons with my mind, kicked some bady ass. Eventually people took notice.” You shrugged.

“You build weapons with your mind. That is literally the coolest thing I ever heard.”

“Well, I’m pretty cool.” You leaned back on your arms. “I could show you the armory. Between Tony and I it’s sky high with cool toys.”

“Really?”

You nodded. “And I could show you what an mp3 is because it’s ridiculous that you still use a Walkman. Seriously who are you, DJ Tanner?”

“I’m obviously Uncle Jessie.”

You snorted.

He looked back at you.“You could be my Rebecca.”

“Are you using Full House references to flirt with me right now?”

“Depends. Is it working?” he asked, leaning back so he was on the same level as you.

“What would it make me if I said yes?”

“Honest,” he smirked.

“You’ve got an ego on you, buddy.”

“But you’re into it,” he said confidently.

“And you’re into all of this.” You motioned down yourself.

“I am. I’m super into off key singing and weird dance moves.”

“We all have our things,” sitting up straight again and reaching for another piece of pizza.

“You know I was serious about taking you to see the stars.”

You scooched around so you were facing him more than the city. All you could do was look at him. The seriousness in his eyes setting you off. You had no idea how to respond. Going to space would be amazing, it’s literally the dream, but you had just met him and you had a responsibility to help protect Earth.

“No, hear me out.” He sat up again too, moving closer to you. “You love the Miliano - maybe even as much as I do. This way you can see her in action. And, yeah, Rocket might try to kill you once or twice. Three times tops.”

“I’m an Avenger; I’m used to people trying to kill me.”

“See. Nothing to put in the con column. It’s all pros!”

You nibbled on the lower lip, making your own pro-con list in your head.

“What about my friends and family?” you asked. “And the team?”

“It doesn’t have to be forever. You can come back whenever you want.”

He was making a lot of sense. And you knew before he even asked that you’d be easily persuaded.

“Imagine all the crazy awesome shit you could do with space tech,” he continued.

“That’s true.” Your face scrunched up and you looked out at the skyscrapers, thinking it all through.

“You’re adorable when you’re trying to concentrate by the way.”

You slapped his arm. “Shut up I’m trying to think.”

And he did. He waited for you to speak up first, watching you anxiously.

“You’re right. It’s pretty much all pro’s.”

He nodded excitedly.

“And with the way you pilot that thing, you could use a technopath.”

He grinned and nodded even more energetically.

“Yeah, ok! Take me to space!”

Peter jumped up punching a fist in the air. “Yes! You’re gonna love it!”

“We’re not goin’ to space right now,” you laughed. “I’ve got a pizza to finish.”

#Guardians of the Galaxy #guardians of the galaxy imagine #gaurdians of the galaxy #peter quill #peter quill x reader #peter quill imagine #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #Avengers #avengers imagine

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shoury01 · 4 years ago

Text

BEHAVIOURAL LESSONS FROM THE WORK-FROM-HOME ERA

It is safe to assume that an overwhelming majority of the population has now participated in a videoconference. People who may not have even known how to start one six months ago now use them daily—and it is all beginning to feel normal. The technologies that we have all come to rely on have so seamlessly infiltrated our lives that it is easy to overlook their impact. But when we consider the repercussions of remote working, we will see that these platforms have taught us more than just how to use them. They have made us better leaders, collaborators, employees, and employers. Here are some lessons we did not realize we learned from the tools we use to work from home.

Lesson 01- Transparency is not so frightening after all: . . . .. . . . . . .

Many of us who came of age in the business world between the 1980s and the 2010s have an innate fear of letting a client see anything before it is “ready.” As businesses, we are entrusted to lead projects that constitute millions of dollars in revenue, which has led to the belief that if work is shared with a client before it’s “perfect,” then that trust will be lost. However, after five months of remote work during the most unpredictable time in most of our lives, it’s clear that nothing is perfect and the notion that we need to pretend it is has no place in our minds. Being open and vulnerable in business isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Lesson 02- Our significance is no longer tied to our location: . . . .. . . . . . .

Good talent is expensive. You get what you pay for, and the best talent in the world is either totally undiscovered or very successful (hence the high cost). Employers did not know what they could not see, so if you were not directly in front of them, they had no idea you existed. The global pandemic has completely changed that.

With budgets being slashed, offices closed, companies shuttering, and the gig economy being revitalized, we have all been forced to realize that remote work works. The past notions of “oh, they work in a metro/ tier 1 city, so they must be good” are gone, and as people across the country were able to refine their work-from-home setups and became familiar, even comfortable, with Slack, Zoom, Dropbox, etc., the playing field was levelled. The migration of talent and remote work reckoning will afford talented creators and businesspeople from across the globe more opportunities and shake businesses clean of the attitude that someone is less valuable if they are not in a big city. After all, in today’s world, if you have tech tools, Wi-Fi, and talent, you can get the job done.

Lesson 03- Our collaboration skills might want improvement: . . . .. . . . . . .

Between zoom, slack, chat, messenger, texting, and a good old-fashioned conference call or two, there are endless channels for socially distanced conversations to take place. But collaboration is something entirely different, and it is important to remember that talking is not co-thinking, and co-thinking is what gets things done. Energy, attitude, and personality cannot be ‘remoted’ through even the best fiber optic lines. (**quoted - Jerry Sinefield).

Every video call platform has managed to make it more obvious than ever how often team members speak over one another. It is an honest mistake, but even the slightest lag has taught many of us to wait our turn, take a second, and make sure we are not infringing on someone’s time to speak. This small change many have unconsciously implemented has made all the things that feed innovative thinking that much better.

The truth is that as humans, we adapt. Sometimes it happens so quietly that we don’t even notice. So, the next time we notice ourselves waiting our turn to speak, being more vulnerable with a client or co-worker, or not second-guessing our value, we can say a silent “thank you” to all of our work-from-home technology for helping us make positive changes from our couch.

Behaviors That Bring More Focus

Focus seems to be the key. It’s hard to imagine achieving anything of value without given it due attention. And whether it’s in relation to family life, work or study, more focus enables more effective setting and achievement of goals. But while most of us can appreciate the benefits of focus, the path to becoming more focused is often elusive. This is especially the case in our modern world: where gadgets, social media and around-the-clock coverage of world events (and non-events) often serve to distract us.

One solution could be to simply avoid the same things highly focused people avoid. Study after study of highly focused (and not-so-focused) people has given us a good idea of the do’s and don’ts of maintaining attention and getting the job done. Here are some behaviors of focused people:

They do not focus their attention on being focused: . . . . . .. . It might seem counterintuitive, but recent research suggests the best way to gain and keep focus is not to try. In other words, maintaining focus could best be undertaken as a defensive sport. Allowing even 200 milliseconds of mental distraction (around 1/5th of second, i.e., the blink of the eye) can disturb our focus for up to 40 minutes. Getting distracted depletes both our physical energy and our brain power. For example, it uses up vital thinking resources and pushes us more quickly towards mental overload—a state wherein we are less able to make decisions. By contrast, placing effort on getting rid of random distractions regains our focus and preserves our scarce, mental reserves.

They reframe dull work to be interesting: . . . . . . . . . We are only focused when we’re interested in the topic. It is no surprise that if the task at hand is incredibly boring, we lose focus quickly. Nonetheless, seldom in life do we get to work things that are always interesting and engaging. For that reason, highly focused people reframe whatever work or tasks they have, to make them more “interesting”. For example, signing a bunch of documents might be reframed as a chance to reflect on the beauty (or ugliness) of your signature. Reading an exceptionally long and poorly structured client brief might allow thoughts of copyediting.

They never begin something without clear, realistic goals. :. . . . . . . . Goal setting is an entire sub-field of management behavioral science. One of its many insights is that setting clear goals increases productivity. However, the mechanism by which goals appear to boost productivity relates to focus: clear goals give a person an object of focus and helps them mark progress. And that leads to something else. The goal-setting literature says our objectives should be challenging; however, they should also be realistic. Goals that are set too high or too low undermines focus and, as a result, productivity.

They chase those goals with flexibility and agility: . . . . . . . .. At the same time, highly focused people do some things that seem counterintuitive. For example, they set goals but do not set rigid ways of achieving them. As a result, high focused people leave themselves open to exploiting opportunities that arise along the way. These opportunities might make their existing goals easer to reach or change them altogether. When people set out with a rigid plan of action towards achieving goals, they are mostly asking “how” and not “why”. Yet. while seemingly harmless, this subtle distinction reduces focus dramatically. For example, as we become bogged down in the details of pursuing a specific action plan, subconsciously, we get lured off-topic by distractions. Part of that might stem from frustrations in not responding to what is happening then and there. By contrast, asking “why” opens the doorway to accepting alternative approaches and revising what we are doing based upon new data. By doing all that, it helps us maintain focus out of maintained interest and engagement.

They use diversions strategically: . . . . . .. .. Diversions are not always bad. While it’s important to distinguish random distractions from those related to our undertakings, there’s even an important place for random distractions in maintaining focus. Brief, strategically timed distractions—often at various intervals while doing our work—helps us “bounce back” into focus. For example, highly focused people might walk outside to observe the hustle and bustle of city streets or go for a walk in nature or even have an irrelevant conversation as a bounce back strategy. The only caveat is if the distraction involves electronic devices—which, for other reasons—can operate on our brains through visual channels and detract from focus.

They prioritize the mind-soul-body connection:. . . . . . . .. Highly focused people understand that their physical, emotional, and even spiritual condition can influence their abilities to maintain attention. Sufficient sleep is important for maintaining focus, even though many believe “all-nighters” or crunching for deadlines are effective ways to work and focus. Highly saturated foods lead to poor focus, and even a slight amount of dehydration kills our attention and leaves our brains foggy.

Having aggressive emotions (such as produced by an argument or by reading a politically-explosive news article) can affect our abilities to reason for some moments after the event—apart from depleting our mental reserves as they arise. The many ancient practices of meditation and prayer offer different ways of gathering focus.

They never befriend their electronic gadgets:. . . . . . . .. Science shows that our devices distract our attention and deplete our focus substantially. That might seem obvious, when considering email or chats, but even the mere presence of a mobile phone near us, impairs our ability to focus. Studies have shown that our grey matter is pivotal in enabling us to switch tasks and regain focus, as well as process information, build memories and other vital functions. Not only is multi-tasking across electronic media distracting, it could progressively impair our abilities to focus over the longer term by affecting our grey matter.

Content Curated By: Dr Shoury Kuttappa

#transparency #collaboration #co-thinking #trust #attitude #conversations #feedback #listening #leadership #teamwork #emotional intelligence #focus #goal setting #flexibility #Prioritization

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aplaceforrtprompts · 7 years ago

Text

Don’t Know How

A/N: This was a commission by the wonder @ah-reader-insert. I highly recommend reading their stuff if you get the chance. If you’d like to commission me there is a page here!

Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader

Word Count: 1,726

Prompt: Friends to Lovers who believe the love is unrequited

You were currently alone in the main room for Achievement Hunter. You were setting up everyone’s stations to play Sky Factor as soon as they were done on Off Topic. You actually had the stream for the podcast playing, half watching, half just using it to know when they’ll be stumbling back into the office.

You closed the stream as you finished up at Geoff’s desk and bounced over to Ryan’s. You smiled as you sat down seeing a picture of the two of you on your first day. You got hired the same day so you bonded instantly. Neither of you knew where anything was or what you were doing but you had each other and that was good enough.

You had half-assed the photo. It was a quick selfie you begged for just to prove you made it through your first day. Ryan was making a face since he didn’t want to take part but with a quick pout from you, he begrudgingly agreed. You were flashing a smile because you had no idea he was being a dick. This was before you had a front facing camera and could punch him before you took the photo.

You pulled the stream up again on his computer and of course, his face filled the screen. It made your heart do little flips and you shook your head trying to ignore the feeling since the two of you made a pact way back.

About a year into your friendship he had suggested the pact one day at lunch. That as long as you were friends you wouldn’t have feelings for one another. You hated that you agreed to it and you hated it even more that Ryan suggested it because that was the day you started looking at Ryan in a different way.

“So where is your better half?” Michael asked Ryan after looking around the table.

You smiled to yourself as you knew exactly who he meant and so did Ryan.

“Y/N is setting up right now so when we’re done here we can go back and just go straight into playing games,” he answered with ease. He gave the camera a quick look that you knew was directed at you.

“The day we hired you two was a turning point for the office,” Geoff began teasing, “Ryan was a waste but where would we be without Y/N?”

“Probably still trying to untangle cables and figure out how to update everything,” Jack answered honestly.

“True,” Michael agreed. “Also, when are the two of you going to start dating?”

You placed your face in your hands, unable to watch. You didn’t have to you knew Ryan was shifting uncomfortably. Your twitter was about to blow up.

Ryan, although uncomfortable, was quick on his feet. He gave a soft, nervous chuckle, “We’re trying to hold out to see who can last longer me and Y/N or Alfredo and Trevor.”

You looked up, smiling at the answer.

“They got some stiff competition,” Geoff smirked and moved on seamlessly.

You mostly tuned out the rest of the podcast. As it ended you knew you had about another half hour as they filmed the post-show so you triple checked everything was working.

As they entered and sat down Ryan was the last to file in. He paused at the door and you picked up on the hint and made your way to him as everyone checked everything.

“Sorry about all that,” he apologized.

“You didn’t do anything. Actually, you were really smooth,” you gave him a friendly punch and walked out, sensing everyone was up and running.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled to yourself, shaking your head as you went to the support room. “Why did you punch him?”

“Talking to yourself about Ryan again?” Trevor asked knowingly in the doorframe.

“No,” you crossed your arms, pausing since he was blocking your way into the room.

“No?” Trevor raised his eyebrows. He stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him. He quickly glanced at the Achievement Hunter office to make sure the door was shut there too. “You know if you do ever want to talk to someone about all this let me know. I’m here for you. We all are. Though if you want my personal opinion Ryan has it worse for you than you do for him.”

Trevor didn’t even wait for your reply. He simply slipped inside the support office. Leaving you there in the hall even further lost in your thoughts.

Between Trevor and the podcast and your own damned thoughts, you spent the rest of the day in sort of a funk. You knew the office could tell because you were only bothered when you were absolutely needed.

You didn’t even wait for Ryan as you normally did. You just wanted to make it out of the building and to your car because you knew if he caught you there was a good chance you’d end up spilling everything. You just needed a night to clear your mind and you could go back to being best friends tomorrow.

You ignored the texts and phone calls but you couldn’t ignore him when he was at your door knocking. Well, you could have and you thought about it but Ryan did nothing wrong. This was on you so you’d suck it up for a moment and make up some sort of excuse as to why you had been avoiding him all day.

You smoothed your hair down as best you could as you walked to the door. You tried to shake off your nerves as you opened the door.

You opened your mouth readying an excuse when your eyes fell to the bags of food in your best friend’s hand. He shot you a smile that made you week as he entered your apartment.

“I got your favorite,” he mentioned as he moved into your kitchen, setting the bags down and moving to your fridge.

You couldn’t help but smile and shake your head as you shut your front door once again.

“I could tell you were having a rough day and if you want me to fuck off just say the word and I’ll leave you with the food and your thoughts but I figured you at least needed the pick me up,” Ryan explained as he set two sodas on the counter.

You wanted to tell him to go away. It was tempting but one look at his easy smile and caring eyes and you were done for. Maybe taking a break from your thoughts would be nice even if Ryan was the distraction.

“How do you always know how to make my day so much better?” you asked, easing into a smile and grabbing the food off the counter and leading Ryan into the living room.

“A gift for knowing you for so long I guess,” he shrugged and followed you. He plopped onto the couch beside you and began unpacking the cartons as you turned on the Food Network.

Dinner was quiet mostly except when either of you shouted at the chefs for being idiots on whatever competition show you were watching. You and Ryan didn’t have to talk a lot though. At this point, half the time just being in each other’s company was enough.

As you finished your food and set the empty boxes on the table you leaned up against Ryan who in turn leaned back against the couch. You were wrapped up in a blanket together and he was playing with your hair with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your waist.

That’s when it hit you. This is the closest you were going to get to having what you actually wanted with Ryan. You could almost pretend that everything was perfect but it wasn’t. The tears started to well up and you closed your eyes to keep them from slipping. You failed though and Ryan noticed.

There was sudden shifting and you felt his thumbs wiping away the few strays you couldn’t hold back.

“Hey,” his voice was soft and laced with concerned. “What’s going on? What’s wrong? You never hold anything back like this.”

You sniffed softly and looked up at Ryan, your heartbreaking as you knew what had to come next. Your voice cracked horribly as you spoke but you couldn’t control your tears and your voice without having a complete meltdown. “I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

“I-” Ryan seemed to be at a loss for words. Something very rare for the man who always seemed to have just the right words.

“I just can’t do this anymore. My heart breaks every time I look at you and it's awful because I love you and I can’t tell you. I can’t even take a chance because of that stupid pact we made but it hurts more to stay around you and love you then it does to let you go,” you explained.

“Oh, thank god,” Ryan muttered and before you could ask what he meant by that his lips were on yours.

You were so confused but you were not going to give up your one chance. You kissed him back with fervor, hands tangling into his hair as he adjusted the both of you to get a better angle. Years of want and need poured into one desperate kiss.

When you pulled apart you were both panting and clutching each other. Ryan snuck in a few quick pecks as you continued to catch your breath.

He broke the silence first, “I made that stupid pact years ago because I started to have feelings for you. Real feelings and I thought it would distance myself from those feelings. I made it so much worse though. I’ve wanted you for years but I never knew you felt the same.”

You punched his shoulder, “Because of you I’ve spent years pining after you and I didn’t think I could say anything.”

Ryan chuckled and brushed some loose strands of hair out of your face, “How about one last pact?” You groaned and he continued, “A pact of no more pacts.”

You had to smile at that, “Deal. One condition though.”

“Anything you want,” Ryan agreed.

“More of this,” you told him before pulling him back down against your lips.

#ryan haywood x reader #ryan haywood imagine #Ragehappy #rt reader insert #rt imagine #RyanH

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frxggi · 7 years ago

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[PENTAGON] For the Road

Lame title, I know. I’ll think of a better one later. Maybe. ANYWAYS, this turned out like….1k words longer than I had originally anticipated, but that’s what I get for jumping into this without anything planned. Prewriting, kids, you should try it.

Request: “May I request a fluffy Yeo One scenario where you’re both trainees and you’re like Kino’s dancer friend so you meet thru him and he develops feelings” Genre: Fluff Word Count: A lot (2,800+) Feedback is always appreciated, Thank you and goodnight

~~~~

Muddled and raucous murmurings, cacophonous beeping, the general ambience of the city, completely drowned and cast aside by the music that beats into your ears and reverberates through your whole body. Strangers and passersby offer you no mind as you swiftly flit through the ebb and flow of rush hour traffic. Such a densely populated area requires an attuned sense of one’s surroundings, lest they become lost amongst the vastness of it all. You stand, in the center of all the hustle and bustle of Gangnam at midday, ready to take it head on. Your destination, which lies a whopping six blocks away, acts as an oasis in the middle of a desert, a sanctuary to offer you a moment’s respite before you’re tossed back into the belly of the beast that is Seoul. Its streets are ones you know like the back of your hand.

Navigation comes easy. You dip in and out of alleyways, a left turn here and a shortcut there, over a bridge and you arrive. The building, stretching taller than most yet still just a spec in the sea of skyscrapers all reaching towards the clouds, is grandiose and elegant. Not a spot of dust can be found and not a single blade of grass lies out of place. For all its grandeur, it sits overlooked; unmarked and unable to capture attention. There’s no crowds gathered by the door, no birds taking advantage of the feeders that hang from the two trees that contrast starkly against an ocean of concrete. Even when you take a step inside the building, you’re met with a replica of a ghost town.

The receptionist is nowhere to be found, presumably out on lunch and you thank the heavens that your face is known as one that frequents the studio often, allowing you to waltz right in without needing to be welcomed. The soles of your sneakers slapping harshly against the laminate flooring echoes loudly in the otherwise empty lobby, the noise rivaled only by that of the deafening ping of the elevator as its mechanical doors slide open. While the lobby of the studio lies in tranquility, calm and relaxing in its silence, the third floor is flamboyant. Music can be heard throughout the stuffy hallways, littered with bags and jackets and abandoned electronics.

The journey to the end of the hall is a harrowing one, as you carefully maneuver the horde of familiar faces greeting you with a smile. Once you reach the end of the hallway, a figure bursts through the door to your left, startling you.

“Y/N!” Greets Hyunggu, “You’re here!” “In the flesh.” You retort, unable to stop the grin that tugs incessantly at the corners of your mouth.

Hyunggu is a boy you’ve known for years, having grown up in the same neighborhood. While most young girls were busy fluffing the hair of their dolls you were out in the dirt with your best friend, throwing a tantrum when Hyunggu dug up a worm and tossed it at your face in amusement. The two of you were practically inseparable from day one, so it came as no surprise to anyone that you followed his footsteps when he found his passion for dance. The two of you would practice day in and day out. He was a natural. Of course, the days of goofing off in the basement of his family’s home had to come to an end.

He’d been scouted, sought out after a video of him at your middle school’s talent show surfaced on the internet. The two of you collectively jumped for joy, but it goes without saying that you were less than enthused when you found out that he’d be moving clear out to Gangnam. He urged you to join him, telling you that anyone would be stupid not to recognize your talent. You had been naive and insecure back then, so it took you the better part of six years to work up the nerve to audition. To your surprise, you had been accepted into the company without a second thought, and it wasn’t long before Hyunggu had found you again. The boy hasn’t let you out of his sight since.

Presently, Hyunggu tugs on the sleeve of your hoodie, dragging you without resistance into the studio. Your gaze languidly scans over the room with fondness before settling onto some new faces. It’s not uncommon for dancers to come and go, present for one practice and gone the next. With all the traffic, it’s hard to keep track of every face you catch a glimpse of. This man, however, you’re positive you haven’t seen before.

He’s clad in all black, a stark contrast to Hyunggu’s colorful attire. Dark, choppy hair sits askew and pushed back on his head. His lips are stretched into a smile as he intently nods along to a story that Yuto, a gifted boy from Japan and one of your good friends, tells. The mystery man laughs heartily, and you find yourself transfixed on the way his adam’s apple bobs with his words. The stranger’s gaze flicks to where you stand frozen in the doorway, and his eyes are warm and inviting and you breathe a sigh of relief as Hyunggu slaps a hand to the center of your back, stopping you from sputtering as he ushers you into the center of the room.

The deep timbre of Yuto’s voice rings in your ears as he greets you, rising to his full height and enveloping you into a casual hug. It’s been at least a month since you’d last seen him, and you know that he holds you dear to his heart, so you allow him the opportunity to bury your head into his chest protectively. A shriek almost escapes you when you break away from your friend to find the newcomer standing only a few feet away, intent on greeting you as well. He only stares at you, giving you a quick once over before locking eyes with Hyunggu, prompting your best friend to speak. “Y/N, this is Changgu,” begins your friend, “He’s our newest addition to the family.” Hyunggu beams at the newcomer, and it’s plain to see just how easily he’s grown attached.

“A friend of Hyunggu’s is a friend of mine.” You say, dishing up a smile that you can only hope masks your nerves. “Nice to meet you.” Says Changgu, and you can feel yourself going weak in the knees because you’ve never in your life seen a man so handsome. There’s an awkward silence budding over your heads, and thankfully Yuto cuts in before it grows any further. As the routine is being explained, you can’t help but let your eyes drift to where Changgu stands beside you with folded arms.

The choreography is one you’ve familiarized yourself with time and time again, and most of your time is spent perfecting your moves and making sure you’ve got everything as perfect as can be. Before long, practice is almost over, leaving Hyunggu to freestyle along to the song blaring through the speakers and expend more of his energy. You love watching him, and he excitedly pulls you over when the song changes. It’s one you’ve known and loved for ages, a piece you and Hyunggu choreographed together. Your smile is radiant as you slip into the routine easily, powerful moves matched by Hyunggu and commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Changgu’s jaw drops as he watches you, mesmerized by the chemistry you have with your best friend as you two move together as one entity, mirroring each other’s passion perfectly. Applause erupts from the rest of the dancers, whooping and hollering masking Changgu’s hushed, “wow.”

He catches up to you as you exit the building, a warm smile plastered onto his handsome face. “Hey,” he breathes, “You were really amazing in there. I’ve never seen anyone move like that.” The weight of his praise opens the door for heat to sting at your cheeks, and you sheepishly cast your gaze to the ground. “It’s nothing, really. That routine is one Hyunggu and I have been doing for years.” “How long have you been dancing with him?” He questions. “For as long as I can remember, really. We grew up together, so I’ve been dancing just as long as he has.” Changgu’s lips part in astonishment, humming as he digests your words. “Is he your boyfriend?” He asks at last, immediately ripping a scoff of disbelief from you. “Absolutely not. The kid used to put gum in my hair; I wouldn’t date him even if he asked.” Changgu laughs at this, falling into stride easily beside you as you make your way towards the train station. “Why do you ask?” You quirk a brow. This time it’s his turn to sputter. “Well, you two have such great chemistry, I wouldn’t have been surprised. It’s good that he’s not your boyfriend though.” “Yeah? Why’s that?” You press. “Because I couldn’t ask you to be my partner if you had a boyfriend.” You can only gawk at his boldness, and the tips of his ears go red as he realizes the implications of his words. “No! Nothing like that!” He defends quickly, “It’s just… I have this choreography I’ve been working on, for a competition. I’m looking for a partner, and since you’re such a great dancer, I thought I’d ask you. I hope that’s not weird or anything!” The two of you come to a stop at the train station, and you tell him casually, “I’ll think about it.” He asks for your number, and you give it to him without question. The train pulls into the station, and he shoots you an award winning smile as he watches you through the closing doors.

A pleasant surprise is that conversation comes easily between the two of you, seamlessly flowing from one topic to the next as you talk about anything and everything. Uncovering facts about one another quickly becomes your favorite pass time, and you look forward to your daily texts from him. You see him at practice frequently, and Hyunggu all but bounces on his heels whenever you two are together because he hasn’t seen you smile so much since you were children. Changgu just has a way of keeping the air light and happy between everyone; it’s impossible not to grin from ear to ear when you’re with him. It’s not until the following Saturday that Changgu presses for an answer. With his nervous gaze and shuffling feet and heated cheeks, you couldn’t say no to him even if you tried. A smile graces his features, and you feel your heart melting. Things seem to take off from there.

You now travel to the studio three times a week, once to work on your own routines, another to spend time with Hyunggu and the others, and the last to begin dancing with Changgu alone. The choreography is supposed to be a form of interpretive dance, inspired by the contemporary teachings he grew up learning with an added twist of modern hip hop to give the routine a little extra something. It’s definitely an award winning performance.

The first time you dance together is awkward. Filled with nervous laughs and hesitant steps, the two of you trip over each others feet more often than anything else. Throughout the entire practice, Changgu’s ears are dusted pink and he doesn’t dare look at you whenever he draws near. His hands ghost over your figure, close enough to crop gooseflesh against your skin but never quite coming to fully touch you. The dance is supposed to tell a story of starcrossed lovers, but the two of you look more like a pair of strangers trying to figure out which way to turn after bumping into each other.

Somewhere along the line, though, that changes. What used to be feather light touches are now guiding embraces, firm hands sliding over your waist, turning you every which way as you move fluidly. There’s a hard set to Changgu’s brow, and his eyes are half lidded as they regard you through your twisting and turning. If there had been sparks between you and Hyunggu, then the feeling between you and your new partner is multiplied tenfold, more like bolts of lightning striking into your hearts whenever you happen to lock eyes. The passion he puts into his performance is matched by your every minute gesture. Changgu eyes you like a predator would its prey, and it sends your nerves into overdrive because this is the first you’ve seen a look like that in the two months you’ve known him. You saunter towards him, the steps to the choreography muscle memory at this point though every cell in your body is telling you to stop dead in your tracks. Strong hands guide you into the final move of the routine, and the song cuts out and you can hear his heavy panting of exertion and the air is thick enough to cut with a knife and he’s still holding you.

You turn to regard him tentatively, almost afraid to look him in the eye because you don’t know what you’ll see if you do. He’s close, far closer than needed and you can feel his breath fan over your neck and feel the heat radiating from his frame. Beautiful golden brown eyes bore into yours almost pleadingly, like he’s looking for an answer to a question unasked. You can feel your defenses crumbling under the weight of his gaze, and Changgu seems to sense your unease, because in the next moment he drops his hands from around your waist but he makes no move to step away from you.

Throughout his time spent with you, he felt himself falling and falling hard. Sparks had flown from the moment he first saw you, and with each passing moment at your side he dug himself deeper into his own grave. You’re all that makes his heart skip, with the way your eyes shine brighter than any star and your smile makes the flowers bloom, the way you move with such precision and fluidity. You’re everything he could ask for, not only as a partner but as a lover, and he yearns to hold you close. He wants you to be his, and the thought scares him half to death. Never in his life has he been so smitten with someone, so taken with every little aspect of a human. He’s fallen head over heels for you in just two months, and he shouldn’t have, but God, does he want to kiss you.

Awkwardly, you shift to put some distance between you two, but you don’t get the opportunity because in that second Changgu’s emotions overwhelm him and he darts an arm around your waist. Pulling you closer, he treats you like glass for the first time since you’d started dancing together, afraid of breaking you or scaring you off. You’re glued to the spot as he inches closer at a snail’s pace.Tentatively, he gingerly brings a hand up to cup your cheek, thumb minutely caressing your cheekbone in a gesture he can only hope soothes your rapid heartbeat. Your eyes are wide as saucers as you gawk at him. His lips are a hair’s width away from yours, and you can feel the unsteadiness to his breathing.

“Tell me to stop.” He whispers, tilting his head to the side as he attempts to press his lips to yours. The only thing that stops him is your stuttered whisper of his name. Changgu meets your gaze questioningly, prompting you to speak. Only, no words escape you. You shift your gaze nervously from his eyes to his lips and it’s then that you realize you want this just as much as he does. The way you relax in his hold is his green light, a broken sound of relief leaving him as he swiftly dips down to capture your lips with his own in a tender kiss. Hesitant and soft and oh so caring, his lips fit against yours like they were made for each other, designed for the sole purpose of allowing pent up emotions to spill forth into one another. Much to your dismay, Changgu breaks away, disbelief etched into his handsome face.

“Wow.” He breathes, causing some of the tension in the air to dissipate and a smile to break out across your countenance. “Wow.” You echo, bringing your lower lip into your mouth and placing your hands onto Changgu’s broad shoulders just before he leans down to kiss you again. And again. Again and again until you’re both breathless and sated, and then he asks you to a date. You say yes, of course. Changgu goes to lead you out of the studio, but not before taking one more kiss for the road.

#please bear with the format it gets all fucky when im on mobile #yeo one #pentagon #pentagon yeo one #yeo changgu #yeo one scenarios #yeo one imagines #pentagon scenarios #pentagon imagines #changgu scenarios #changgu imagines #pentagon kpop #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #froggi writes #edit later

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topweeklyupdate · 7 years ago

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TØP Weekly Update #43: The End (For Now, My Dudes) (7/2/17)

Nothing really ends.

This Week’s TØPics:

Schott Recap

Rock Sound 50 Interview

BLIND SPECULATION About the Next Era

And More (Tears, Mostly)

Major News and Announcements:

Only one piece of major news this week: they’re done. After over two years, well over two hundred shows, a butt-ton of awards, and countless moments of fun and joy, Twenty One Pilots has finished the album cycle that began in April 2015 with the announcement of an album called Blurryface. Tyler Joseph and Josh Dun worked their butts off for us. We’ll get into the nitty-gritty of how the era wrapped in the recap section and look to the future in BLIND SPECULATION, but first, let’s just appreciate the fact that they did it.

With this album and the years of work that led up to it, Tyler and Josh became some of the biggest figures in music, generated no less than three smash singles, and took off their pants on national television. Most importantly, their increased visibility has introduced their music about anxiety, depression, and emotional honesty to a lot of people, some of whom have seen their lives changed for the better by the comfort and community that music brings. They’ve changed the world, without question.

Performances, Interviews, and Other Shenanigans:

It’s hard to believe that it’s been barely a week since the last show of the Blurryface Era. It feels like it was both years and mere hours ago. Highlights from the last show at the Schott:

Before the show even started, Mark and Brad were causing drama in the Clique. Mark created a very official-looking fake setlist that included an assortment of fan favorites melded very seamlessly into the existing line-up and slipped it into the background of several of the pair’s pre-show Snapchats. I think they both learned their lesson about the risks of waving Taxi Cab under the Clique’s nose.

Though the fake setlist didn’t make it to the stage, there were a few nifty alterations. My favorite: for the first time since Belsonic Fest way back in August 2015, the band performed “No Woman, No Cry” for the lead-in to “Ride”, this time with the assistance of MisterWives’ horn section.

Tyler’s (possibly final) WDBWOTV Speech was full of awkward pauses meant to keep the show going as long as possible and a shout out to his sister Madison, whose birthday landed on the date. Tyler called Maddie “the only woman he ever loved besides my mom and my wife... and my mother-in-law... and Josh.” Curse that boy.

Tyler’s final Trees Speech of the era was suitably great (even if it was regularly interrupted by screaming from the crowd, which you can forgive, I’d be hyped/sad as frick, too). Tyler made sure to emphasize how their story shows that people should never put a ceiling on their dreams. He also, with trademark humility, repeatedly pointed out that neither he nor Josh could have done this without each other and their fans. The part that hit me the most was when Tyler got transparent and admitted that he doesn’t really know what comes after this moment for them, and that he even thought while donning the Blurryface makeup for the last time that this might be it for the band. However, he pledged not to quit, asking only that the audience give them time to not just work on their material but to grow as people before coming back with new music.

Nothing in the whole show shook me more to the core than Tyler singing “Goodbye” in “Trees”. I’m still not over it.

Actually, this hug shook me even more.

Beyond the show, there was one more piece of content that came out this week that I feel has really been overlooked: the Rock Sound 50 interview. Tyler and Josh were voted the most influential figures in rock music by the mag’s readers, and they gave one of the most honest and in-depth interviews on that topic that I’ve seen from them in quite some time (largely because they haven’t really given a ton of interviews lately). Highlights from that interview:

When asked about what they think of being influential, Josh gives the most unexpected answer possible, but one that is also quintessentially Josh: he talks about watching Dean Martin Westerns with his dad. If you think that’s random, Josh’s explanation makes a ton of sense. He states that he felt like he got to know Dean Martin through how he portrayed himself across all the various films he was involved in over the years, and that he now understands how people can look at how he presents himself on stage and other media over time and connect with the person who has crafted all of those performances.

Tyler’s answer to the question of influence is also expectedly on point: “I don’t look at celebrities or people of a certain status and aspire to be them... I’m influenced by my family, by individuals who have endured struggle and who have bettered themselves or overcome tremendous odds.”

The interviewer states that the connection between the fans and the band is genuinely unbelievable. Tyler says that he thinks his music really resonates with people because it talked honestly about what he was thinking. There’s one point that I wish I could pick his brain about. Tyler says that he’s not fulfilled by writing about personal scenes, words, and things that don’t make sense to anybody else, and that he wants to make art and live outwardly in order to connect with people. This is confusing: after all, so much of his discography is cryptic, and he famously wrote a song about his personal “Kitchen Sink”. That said, the core feelings of those songs are pretty evident and obviously connect with tons of people. I dunno. Again, would like to see if that populism is something that Tyler wants to incorporate more into his music and has been thinking about as his art has evolved.

The band talks about the responsibility of being influencers, specifically pointing to the lessons they’ve learned by being older siblings. Josh talks about the accountability that comes with being expected to be a role model. Tyler conversely says that he “feels like knowing when to step back is part of being responsible.” Tyler goes further and points out that they really have a much lower public profile than many in their occupation and level of fame, and that that’s very much an intentional choice to not go on every TV show or take every photo. It’s important for him to have time to just stay huddled in a room and not risk giving a potentially bad example on his bad days. Furthermore, he says, “I don’t crave any more attention than I have already.

Tyler appears to get actually upset and even angry when the question of authenticity comes up, openly bashing the “mainstream, pop culture” idea that they were a constructed product or that their songs don’t come from a genuine place. Tyler is very proud that he’s able to say that he has never had someone co-write one of his songs, let alone had them made by another person. “Sometimes I want to scream that so hard. It’s like, ‘Don’t you get it? Don’t you get that this isn’t some formula? This is real, and people are drawn to it because it’s real.’”

When asked if people would be surprised that they’re influenced by fans more than the other way around, Tyler fully agrees. Josh says that fans don’t just inspire him with their creativity and talent, but also force him to be a better person even on days that he doesn’t much want to be. Tyler explains that, while he makes his songs to better and “mend” parts of himself (*sobs*), he truly feels alive when those emotions bounce back from fans who have taken them and applied them to themselves.

Tyler says that the music they’ve making now has weird, structurally unsound pauses meant specifically to encourage audience reflection and participation.

On the sole light-hearted note in the interview, Tyler jokes about how he can never find the right pants, and that “pants” would probably be in the name of his theoretical solo project (don’t even joke about that, fam).

Josh interestingly talks at length about his maturation in the last years, specifically in his newfound desire to be clear and considerate in his speech in order to make people feel love and accepted, even down to wanting to draw back from too many inside jokes with Tyler. I... don’t know how I feel about that. Is that just a social media criticism thing? Or is that genuine maturity, wanting to make yourself palatable to everyone? Or is it a fame thing? I don’t know. I’m immature as heck.

When discussing self-improvement, Josh states that, in addition to learning new sports, he is also continually interested in learning new instruments and more about composition. Tyler, on the other hand, says that he’s cautious about how to evolve. Specifically, he says that he never wants to be unhappy with where he’s currently at or to look at his past work and not be proud of it. We hope you never do either, boss.

BLIND SPECULATION OF THE WEEK:

Now, the big question: What’s next? I’ve brought this up before in speculation segments, but recent events have caused me to alter my predictions somewhat. Last time, I said that I thought we wouldn’t get an album until next year, but that we almost definitely would get at least a promo track by December. Now I think I might have been overzealous.

It seems pretty clear that Twenty One Pilots has not been in the studio in their relative down-time over the last few months- any days that they weren’t vacationing or moving into new houses were probably spent rehearsing for festivals and TDC. That doesn’t negate the fact that Tyler and Josh have said that they’ve been already been working on new music a number of times over the last few months, but it does greatly lower the likelihood that they’re only a few months out from completing a project. Furthermore, just from reading the vibe of recent interviews and speeches, I think Tyler especially really needs to take at least a few months to himself. Tyler’s an extremely introverted and family-focused individual, and fame (not to mention the heavy workload of arena/festival touring) seems to have taken a bit of a toll. He clearly loves what he does, but he also clearly loves his wife, his friends, and his home, and he deserves a chance to reconnect with them, not just for his health and happiness (which is most important), but also to make sure that his creative voice remains grounded to reality. Plus... I mean, Tyler’s getting older, he’s barely a year out from thirty, guy’s been on the road the first two years of his marriage... that’s all I’m saying about that. Also, I’m sure Josh wants to go bowling, visit Universal a few more times, hang out with certain individuals, see the pyramids, and generally live an idle life for a bit.

Because of that, not only do I not think Tyler and Josh will have another album ready to go by the end of the year, I also think that they won’t even be in the studio by then. A six month vacation would give them both time to pursue other interests, invest in the people around them, and consider where they want to take the next project. Granted, label contracts, creative itches, and their work ethic might mean that they’ll be back well before that. And that would be great; no one would be happier than me to get music sooner rather than later. But my main priority is that Tyler and Josh are healthy and happy.

There’s a ton of other questions about upcoming projects, which I shall attempt to answer succinctly (too late) below to the best of my ability:

How will the concerts and setlists change when they make a bunch of new music? Most of the deep cuts from past projects will probably start to go- I doubt we’ll have room for full performances for Polarize, Message Man, WDBWOTV, Hometown, *unsteady sobbing gasp* The Run and Go, The Judge, Migraine... Beyond that, I would be thrilled if the band made use of some of their newly-acquired capital to hire a touring band. The backing tracks were a great tool for the guys when they were broke college kids, but I do think that a lot of music critics who have scorned our band have a valid point that the greatest weakness to their performances is the lack of genuine live music. I honestly don’t know if this will happen, but the Mutemath collaboration leaves me optimistic that Tyler and Josh might see the value in searching out some talented folks to flesh out their sound.

Will they release any more one-off singles for films or other media in the vein of “Heathens” between now and another album? I dunno. Hard to imagine that they haven’t been approached after the runaway success of “Heathens”, but I feel like Tyler will want to devote his time to their next major project.

Will they get bored in their off-time and go back to making Quality Comedy Content? I mean, Vine’s dead. But I don’t see why not. Go crazy, Jishwa, skate down the pyramids with your fidget spinners. Run another election, Lord knows we need one.

How will their rise to fame be reflected in their new content? I mean, there’s really no way it won’t in some implicit way. The pressures, judgement, and surreal-ness that come with that almost definitely will be on Tyler’s mind during the writing process. Honestly, though? I hope it doesn’t. Blurryface was already an album largely about dealing with insecurities and pressures involved in making music and art and, I’ll be honest, that’s what didn’t work about that album for me. Like Tyler said in the Rock Sound 50 interview, those parts spoke more to the band’s very unique experience, and I couldn’t relate to them as strongly as the paradoxically even more personal and emotional stuff in their prior projects. That’s right: on the final week of the Blurryface Cycle, I admit that I wasn’t actually completely sold every aspect of the album. I know, I’m a fake fan. However, Blurryface was still a great project made by immensely talented people, and I am so excited to see what they take away from it in making their future art

That’s all folks. I’ll be stepping away from writing regular installments of the blog for the foreseeable future, with maybe the odd one-off here and there if we get a good morsel of news (*cough*last Sleepers video*cough*) or maybe if I just miss my dudes. Hopefully I’m still in a place when the next era begins that I’ll be able to jump right back on the horse, but we’ll see where life takes me- and all of us, really. But I’m optimistic, and I know that, whatever happens I will always- always- love this band, which has given so many people hope and comfort when they needed it most.

Power to the local dreamer.

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#twenty one pilots #tyler joseph #josh dun #tour de columbus #blurryface #top weekly update

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