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127-mile · 3 years

Text

For all the wrong reasons.

Pairing: Doyoung x female reader.

Genre: Exes, enemies to lovers | Fluff, angst.

Warnings: Strong language, brief non-explicit mention of suggestive content.

Plot: Filing for divorce was probably the best decision you ever made with Doyoung. Having to marry him a second time for an inheritance wasn't on your post Doyoung to-do list.

Word count: +7.1k.

A/N: This is part of the Be your enemy collab hosted by @treasurehobi. | I wish I could remember where I saw the original prompt I used as an inspiration.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you spit when you see Doyoung outside of the building where you work. "You know I'm working, why the fuck would you ask me to come out?" Doyoung rolls his eyes, and you see the way he clenches his fists. It is so easy to rile him up, even though he probably already was before you joined him. "We need to talk."

"Talk about what? If it's not about all of the shit you still have in the garage, then I don't want to hear a word about it." he nibbles on his lower lip, an habit he always had when he is nervous, or ready to explode. You witnessed it way too many times. "You are rambling, you idiot!" you do not have the time, or the faith to keep up with him, so you turn on your heels, and when you put your hand on the doorknob of the heavy glass door, he calls out for you. "Wait."

"Doyoung, I have to go back to work, what do you want?" you ask in a long sigh and he mumbles something you can't quite understand. "Can you repeat, I can't hear anything you say when you mumble between your teeth." he takes a step closer, because he doesn't want to have to yell for the whole world to hear. "My aunt is dead." oh, that was not was you were expecting.

"Which one? The sweet one, or the old bitter bitch?" you ask as you turn to face him once again. "The sweet one." that's too bad, because this was probably the only member of Doyoung's family that you always liked, also the only member of his family that liked you from the minute you stepped inside of the house when you were 15. "I'm sorry, I know you loved her."

"I thought you deserved to know, she always adored you," he starts, and you cross your arms over your chest, maybe you should have taken your jacket before going out. "but this is not the only reason I came here." You do not try to think about why he is here, so instead, you prompt him to keep talking. "She left a will, and you know how all of her children were assholes so she gave them the bare minimum, and she gave me the rest."

"Good for you, I guess, you always wanted the lake house." he shakes his head, because yes, the lake house is a sweet addition, and he can only dream of the weekend he is going to spend there for the rest of his life, but this is still not why he is here. "You have to know, that if I had the choice, I would not be here, trust me, you are the last person I wanted to see." alright, that hurts. "Then what do you want from me?"

"We need to get married."

Your eyes open wide, and you throw your head back to laugh heartily. "Doyoung, we got divorced last year." he rolls his eyes, and you follows the movement of the tip of his tongue wetting his lips with your eyes. "I know, this was the best day of my life. But my aunt believed in us, she believed in our relationship, in our marriage, and the will stipulates that if I want to inherit everything, we have to be wedded."

"That's a joke, right?" you ask and he shakes his head. You know it is not a joke, you have known his aunt for many years, and to be honest, you are not even surprised to hear that. You do not know how many times she reminded you that your marriage to Doyoung was the best thing that has happened in this family. "I guess you'll have to say goodbye to your inheritance."

"Oh come on, I'm not asking you for the fucking moon! I never asked you for anything, can't you do me one fucking favor!" he exclaims and you look around, you do not want any of your coworkers to see what is happening, because you'll never hear the end of it. "And if I do it, what do I get in exchange?" you ask in a sigh.

"Her car, money, that necklace she promised you, I don't know, whatever you want." the corner of your lips curl into a smirk, and he takes a step back. He knows you better than anyone else on this stupid planet, so he knows that this smile doesn't bode well. "Everything?" he knows he shouldn't, but he nods nonetheless.

"I want the lake house."

"What? You will never get the lake house!" he says, almost offended that you would have the audacity to ask for the only thing he ever wanted. The house where he grew up, the house he spent so many vacations in with his aunt and his cousins. The house where he proposed to you. "I'm not asking for the fucking moon, Doyoung." you imitate Doyoung, but unlike him, you speak in a much softer voice.

"I hate you." he mutters when he understands that you are making fun of him, and you shrug. "Tell me something I don't already know." you stay silent for a moment, and Doyoung, still waiting for his answer, shifts from one leg to the other. "If I do it, will I finally get rid of you?" Doyoung doesn't show anything, but hearing this does something to his heart. He doesn't know if it's relief to finally be able to move on after this, or the closure that it'll bring. "Yes, you won't hear from me after that."

"Alright," you start in a huff. "Let's get married. Again."

What a stupid idea, you both think as you part ways.

You know you should not be doing it, you know you should not get close to Doyoung again, and he knows it too, you both suffered too much before, and even after the divorce, that it will not bring anything good. You got married because of love the first time, and you are going to get married because of all the wrong reasons, the second time. Hopefully, this time, divorcing won't hurt as much.

"You look fucking stupid, who knitted this sweater, your mother?" you say as soon as Doyoung steps inside of the café. Doyoung does look stupid, but not because of the pink sweater, but because of his messy hair and the crooked glasses on the bridge of his nose. "My girlfriend made it for me," he says in a low voice as he sits down on the chair in front of you. "and it's not stupid, it's a pretty sweater. She spent a lot of time working on it."

"Your girlfriend? Poor soul. Does she know you are currently having coffee with your ex wife?" you ask, straigtening up on the chair. You did not know he had a girlfriend, and maybe it is for the better, because you would have told him to fuck off last week when he came to see you. "Yes, he does know." you hum sipping on your cup of tea. "And fo I have to expect a crazy girl banging on my door at three am, asking me to stop sleeping with her boyfriend, or did you finally find someone normal?"

"Do you always have to remind me of my past?" he asks, but you know it is a rethorical question, that he is not waiting for an answer, but there is no way you are missing an opportunity like this one. "Doyoung, we took one break in our relationship, and you found a way to date the most jealous girl on campus. She was fucked up, and she tries to push me down the fucking stairs, so yes, I have to remind you of your past mistakes."

"You are the worst." he brings his own cup to his lips, and he sips on the coffee he just drowned in milk and sugar like a kid who never had caffeine before. "So, I contacted the town hall, and we can have the ceremony there tomorrow at 2 pm." oh, how romantic, the complete opposite to your first wedding. So big, luxurious and filled with love and laughter. "Sounds like a dream. Do we have to get dressed, or what?" he shrugs. "I don't know. Wear something nice, not that ugly hoodie of yours."

"Fuck you. You were happy to steal my hoodie when we were still in university." he sighs with exasperation, he did not come here to be reminded of his youth. Of the time they could still hold a conversation without cursing at each other at the first opportunity, without wishing the other was somewhere else, or worst, dead. Of the time you did not hate each other as much as you do now.

"Do we need witnesses?" you ask and he seems to think about it, or to recall everything the town hall secretary told him on the phone earlier. "Uh, yes, I think we do, to sign the papers." that's where it will get complicated, you think. "Amazing, I can't wait to ask Yuta to sign the wedding papers. A wedding I put an end to last year." he is going to be so mad at you, and you can already hear him yell. "Eh, don't act like you are the only one who'll have to get yelled at! I have to ask Johnny, and you know how he gets when we do something he does not approve of."

"Why don't you ask your girlfriend to marry you for the inheritance?" you ask with genuine curiosity and Doyoung tilts his head to the side, and he looks at you like you just said the dumbest thing he had ever heard in his entire life. "Are you stupid, or are you trying to waste my time? The notary will not accept to give me anything if it's not your name on the marriage certificate." yes, you expected as much.

"Why does he even need a marriage certificate? That's stupid, there is no proof that we are not married anymore." he shrugs, putting his cup back on the old wooden table. "He is a notary, he is probably going to do some research to be sure we are not going against my aunt's will." you drink the last of your tea, and you stand up under Doyoung's gaze. "Alright, I have to go and talk to the Devil. If you don't see me at the town hall tomorrow, it's because he sent me straight to hell."

"Same goes for me. Good luck."

When you find yourself in front of Yuta's door, you try to muster everything you have to push the door. This is not going to be fun, but it has to be done, you can't ask some stranger to be your witness, because you probably need the signature of the same person who was by your side during your actual wedding. What were you thinking when you asked Yuta? Well, maybe because at that time, you did not think you would file for divorce, and get married to him again, a year later.

"Oh, hello, pretty stranger." Yuta says when he sees you in front of the door, lost in your thoughts. But his voice is enough to bring you back were you are, and to remind you of what you have to do. "Yuta, we have to talk." you whisper, and he heads for the living room. "Do I need to sit, or can I stay up?" he asks with the shadow of a smile on his face, he thinks it is not that serious, but it is, and he is in for a surprise.

"I think you should sit down." oh, his smile fades right away, and you nibble on your lower lip. You should have rehearsed what to say, because you find yourself stupid in front of Yuta who is waiting, nervously playing with his fingers. "Can you please start to talk before I start thinking all type of crazy things."

Before you can open your mouth to say anything, Yuta speaks again, and he asks the dumbest question he could have asked. "Oh my god, are you pregnant? Yes, that's it, you are pregnant! Am I the father? No, it's been too long, and we were careful every time. Wait, we did it last week? Isn't that too short to know? Oh my god, I'm going to be a father!"

Your eyes widen at his words and you shake your head furiously. "Yuta, what the fuck? I'm not pregnant, and we did not even sleep together last week!" he heaves a sigh of relief, and you roll your eyes. He gets excited really easily, but hecan also calm down as quickly. "Oh. Then who did I sleep with last week?" you should file for divorce with your friends too. "I don't know Yuta, I do not live here to see who you bring home every day."

"Are you calling me a slut?" he cackles and you shake your head, at least, the tension is way less tense. "Yuta, I did not come here to slut shame you or anything, I do have something important I have to tell you. And to ask you too, if you are willing to listen to me until I'm done before getting mad."

"Why would I get mad? I never get mad!" he says, offended, and you grab a chair to sit in front of him, you can't stay up for that, your legs are already shaking.

"Doyoung and I are getting married tomorrow, and I need you to come to the town hall at 2 pm to be my witness and sign the papers." you blut out and you cover your mouth with your hand, because you wanted to explain the situation before coming to this part, but you apparently do not have a brain to mouth filter.

Yuta stands up so fast that he almost trips on his own feet, he opens his mouth a few times but no sound comes out. You did expect as much. "What the fuck!" he says first, and you were expecting him to start yelling, but no, his voice is barely above a whisper. "You are back with Doyoung? Why would you do something like that? Are you masochist or just plain stupid?"

"Call me stupid one more time, and I swear to God that I will kick you in the balls right here and there!" you mutter and he rolls his eyes as he sits back down. "Listen to me, understand everything, and then you will be allowed to judge me."

When he stays quiet, you start talking again.

"Doyoung's aunt passed away, and she decided to give him pretty much everything she ever had, but it is stated in the will that if he wants to get the inheritance, we still have to be wedded. So he came to me the other day, asking me if we could get married again, so he could get the inheritance."

He hums and he crosses his arms over his chest. "And what will happen after?" you shrug. "We did not talk about it just yet, but I guess we are going to divorce. Again."

He heaves a long and deep sigh as he stands up, only to pace around the living room this time. "I understand what he is asking you. If he is doing it, it is because the inheritance is worth it. But have you thought about the consequences? Do you think you are emotionally strong enough to go through another divorce?" he asks in a soft voice.

"I don't know, Yuta. But I guess I will be? I mean, this time there will be no problem with separation of property, or anything. It's just a wedding of convenience, nothing else. No feelings involved." he stops in front of you, and he puts a hand on your shoulder. "Are you sure about the last part?" you hate when he asks this question. "Doyoung is my first love, and despite everything that happened between us, he will always have a special place in my heart no matter what I say, or show, but this is over. And he has a girlfriend."

"If you promise me that you won't let your heart get broken again, then you can count on me, I will be there tomorrow to sign the papers. Again." you wrap you arms around his waist, burrying your face against his toned stomach. "I promise." you whisper, and if you had your fingers crossed behind his back, this is nobody's business.

"Look who's here."

You turn your head when Yuta speaks, and your eyes meet Doyoung's. He is closely followed by a clearly annoyed Johnny who does not look up from his phone, and you wonder how bad it was yesterday. You would give everything you have to be able to witness what happened in the confine of Johnny's apartment when Doyoung asked him to come today. Did he punch him? That probably did not happen, but it's a thought that warms your heart.

"Are you wearing the fucking suit?" you ask and he stops, a bright smile illuminating his face. "Well, it is a wedding, it's only fair to wear the suit of our first wedding." what a little shit, he told you to dress nicely, but to not go all the way like it was real fucking wedding. "I wanted to burn it a few weeks after our break up, and honestly, I'm happy I didn't do it. Maybe I'll do it during the first weekend I'll spend in the lake house to celebrate my inheritance and our second divorce."

"What if I punched you in the face?" Yuta asks, stepping out in front of you, and you have to grab his wrist to be sure he is not taking another step. "I'm sure the suit will look way better with your blood on it!" you meet Johnny's gaze and he smiles, he has no intention to step in between them, and because you know it, and won't do it either, you smile back. "What's up Y/n, it's been a while."

"I'm getting married to my ex-husband for money, you know, the usual." he chuckles and you let go of Yuta's hand when him and Doyoung seem to relax. "I almost punched him in the face when he told me. "Johnny adds, and yes, it is basic Johnny's bevahior. "You should have done it, but I guess you still have time. Maybe you could do it when we get out of the town hall, as a wedding gift?" Doyoung looks at you, and at Johnny, in time with a frown. "That's a great idea! I'll do it, and I'll give you time to take a photo."

"Maybe I should marry you instead of Doyoung." you concede, when you enter the town hall. "Maybe you should, but it's not like I never asked you before." Doyoung stops, and you almost bump against his back and he turns on his heels. "What do you mean, it's not like you never asked her?" he asks in between clenched teeth. "Why do you care man?" Johnny answers and you chuckle.

Johnny is Doyoung's best friend, and yet, he loves pissing him off as much as you do, and that's probably why you get along so well. He puts an arm over your shoulders as you climb the stairs to the right room. "You should not touch her like that, we are supposed to get married." Doyoung says in a breath, and Johnny takes a step back. "It's a fake marriage, I can do whatever I want with the bride."

"Come on kids, right now is not the right time to fight." you say before the doors open on the mayor. "You can do it later." you enter the room, Yuta on your heels and with a pretty angry Doyoung beside you.

You come out half an hour later, your old wedding ring around your finger, and Doyoung with his. You are surprised he did not throw it away. "Well, that sucked." you mumble so as not to be heard by the mayor you smile at.

"Your first wedding was more fun. Taeyong got drunk and fell into the pond." Yuta says and you laugh at the memory. Yours and Doyoung's families left pretty early, so it was only the newly neds and your friends for the whole night, and things got out of hand pretty quickly, you probably will never forget any of it, even though you should.

"So, what are we doing?" Johnny asks, burrying his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "We have an appointment with the notary tomorrow morning, so we have the rest of the day." Doyoung says with a shrug and you turn your head to watch him. "Shouldn't you go home to your girlfriend, tell her everything about how you said "I do" to me for the second time of your life?"

"Fuck off, Y/n. Do you always have to ruin everything?" you try to stay quiet, you really try, but you can't. "Do I have to ruin everything? You are the reason we got a divorce, Doyoung! Our relationship turned to shit because of you, and you have the guts to tell me to stop ruining everything? You did it first, so suck it up."

"You do whatever you want, I'm going home, I'm tired of seeing his face." you say before kissing Yuta's cheek, thanking him for being here, as always, and before disappearing in the corner of the street, you look at Doyoung one last time. "You have the certificate, you can go to the notary on your own tomorrow. Good riddance, asshole."

You know this is not part of the deal, but you really do not want to see him for something you do not have to actually be there. The certificate will be enough for the notary to understand that you are married, and Doyoung, oh all mighty stupid Doyoung will find a good lie for the date on the certificate, you do not doubt that one bit. He is a good liar after all.

It is around 2 o'clock when someone knocks on the door, and nuzzled in a blanket on the sofa with an horror movie playing on the television, you do not feel like moving to open the door. Whoever it is, they can wait, or call you if it is urgent.

You heave a sigh of relief when the knocking stops, but then, it is your phone who starts to rind and you whine loudly. You pout, but when you see Doyoung's picture on the screen, the pout turns into a frowns and you pick up. "What do you want? Another wedding?" you hear him sigh from the other side of the line. "Open the door." oh god, now you have to stand up, and for who? For Kim fucking Doyoung.

You hang up, and after a minute or two of weighting the pros and cons, you stand up, and head to the front door that you open slightly. "What?" without saying a word, he hands you a letter and you look at him without taking it. "What is that?" he rolls his eyes, arm still stretched. "A letter for us, from my aunt, that the notary gave me earlier. I didn't think it would be nice to open it without you."

"You can come in, but I want you gone in five minutes." you mumble as you push yourself from the door to let him in. "Where is the carpet my mom bought you?" he asks as he takes his jacket and shoes off. "I unfortunately dropped a few glasses of red wine on it, and it became impossible to wash out, so I threw it away. What a shame, a beautiful carpet." of course you did, he knows you never liked anything coming from his mother.

"If you have the letter with you, I guess the appointment with the notary went well?" you go back to the living room and you sit down on the armchair. "He was a bit hesitant to accept the certificate as it was dated from yesterday." that was expected. "And what did you tell him?" he heaves a long sigh as he sits directly on the ground, like he used to do when he still lived here.

"I told him we had a flooding at the house, and that our certificate got ruined. I also said that the town hall lost some files, so we had to ask for a new one." that's smart. "You should open the letter, you only have 3 minutes left before I kick your ass out of this house."

He opens the letter and he looks at the words, written prettily by his aunt probably a few years ago, when she was still here, when she had hope about their relationship.

"My loves," Doyoung starts to read out loud. "if you are reading this letter, it means I am no longer in this world, but fear not, I will always be close to you, no matter where I am. You must have been surprised when you learned about the will, about the inheritance, but let me explain. My children, well, you know them, you know how they are and they do not deserve even half of what I have. Well, had. But you, you do deserve it. You are young, full of love, and ready to start your life together. As I am writing this, you are about to get married, Y/n is also in the room with me, she is getting her makeup done, and Doyoung, she is absolutely beautiful, you are the luckiest man."

Doyoung either takes a break to catch his breath, or to let the words settle.

"So, as I was saying, you are about to start your life together, and you only deserve the best. This is why I decided to give you everything I had. Doyoung, you grew up in the lake house, you even proposed to your beautiful wife there, it is only normal for you to get it. My car, that Y/n always loved, you can have it, as well as the necklace I promised to give her when my time would come. And the rest. You can keep what you want, you can sell the rest, or give it away, make someone else happy, I trust the two of you to do what is good."

You cross your arms over your chest, lowering your head when Doyoung starts to speak again.

"You two fell in love really young, and unfortunately, the families were not supportive enough, and made you feel like what you felt was not real, that you would get over it at some point. Y/n, I want to apologize for everything they ever said, or done to you, you never did anything to deserve any of this. You both never deserved the treatment they gave you. You only deserve the best, and all of the happiness the world can give you. I hope I will help a little bit on that. Be happy, always, be there for each other, and never forget that you should never go to bed mad. Doyoung, you are stubborn, so please, take the time to listen to Y/n, and turn your tongue seven times in your mouth before speaking, you would not want to lose her. The love of your life. I love you both so much, thank you for always being by my side."

When Doyoung puts the letter back inside of the envelop, you sigh. "I did not even notice her writing back then." you say in a whisper. "But now, I understand her decision, she really was rooting for us, uh?" Doyoung nods, and he is touched by the letter, if the way his eyes are shining is anyhing to go by. "She was the only one who believed in us. She would be incredibly disappointed if she knew."

Because yes, if the situation is this tricky is because you did not tell her when you decided to break up. It was only supposed to be a few days/weeks break, but it turned into a divorce, and you were so busy with the divorce in itself, the lawyers, the moving and everything that you both forgot to tell her, and maybe it was a good thing, at least, she did not pass away sad or disappointed. Because if she knew, she would have changed her will. And to be honest, you are not even sure Doyoung's family knows.

"She would be, yes." you stay silent for a minute and when Doyoung stands up, you look up at him. "What are we doing now?"

"We should go to the lake house, so you can get whatever you want from the house, the necklace, and the books you loved so much, and then I guess we'll call the lawyer." what does it hurt so bad to hear him say that? You did not want to see him again, but after hearing what his aunt thought about you, about the relationship, it feels different, you head and your hearts are a mess.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow around 8am, so we won't come home too late, alright?" you nod, and without another word, Doyoung leaves the house, leaving behind him a heavy silence and a lot of things to think about for you.

"I hate you."

Doyoung's eyes widen at your words, and he turns his eyes but being the one driving, he can't watch you for too long. "What have I done? I did not say anything for over an hour!" he exclaims and you shrug as you look at the landcape behind the window. The city long gave way to the country side, and you have to admit that it is way prettier than all of the buildings of the city.

"The music sucks, and I still don't like your sweater."

"You need to stop hating on my sweaters, because you did not complain about them when you were cold!" he answers and you stick your tongue out at him. "Yeah well, maybe if you had agreed on letting me keep them, then maybe they would not look so ugly." he chuckles as he shakes his head. "You are impossible."

"Can I ask you a question?" he nods. "Did you tell your parents, about the divorce?" well, that was not was he was expecting. "I did, a few weeks ago." a few weeks ago, when you have been divorced for a year now, yeah, sounds valid. "They were probably very happy to learn the news." well, you were not happy about getting a divorce at such a young age, but you were definitely happy to get rid of his parents. So it's only fair that they felt the same.

"You know how they are, they told me it was for the best, that we were not made to be together, you know, what they always told us." you can hear his mother's voice in your head, and you wince at the thought. "At least I succeeded on making her happy once in my life."

You stay silent for a few minutes, but you open your mouth mouth. "And now I'm mad, because I promised myself to never do anything to make her happy! Fuck me!" Fortunately, he is at a red sign, because Doyoung starts to laugh to the point where his vision becomes blurry with tears.

"Stop laughing idiot!" you say when you hear the horns of the cars behind Doyoung's car. "Don't yell at me, it's your fault!" you can't help but to laugh along with him and it takes you a few minutes to calm down, and it's been a long time since you laughed with Doyoung, and it makes you feel.. light? And definitely happy.

"Oh my god, I don't remember the last time I came here." you say as you get out of the car when Doyoung stops the engine. The lake house is typical of a lake house, made of wood, old and yet beautiful. The flowers are blooming and it makes the entire area colorful and it is hard for you to close your mind to the memories that come with the view. "Honestly? I don't remember either."

Doyoung opens the door, and he starts to cough when it moves a cloud of dust around him. "Oh wow, I don't think my aunt came here for a long time." the house used to be clean, and smelling of fresh flowers and laundry, but today, it smells of nothing but dust and wilted flowers on the coffee table. "I have a few days off, next week, we can come to clean, if you want." you propose.

"We?" you shrug as you nudge him to enter the house, and even if it's not what it used to be, it still feels like home. And you know Doyoung feels the same, he told you so many times that he wanted nothing more than to finish his days here, with a family, and a dog. "I spent as much time in this house as you did, it's normal that I help you. But you can refuse, and clean by yourself, I don't mind."

He rolls his eyes and without another word, he climbs the stairs only to come back a few minutes later with a wooden box. "Here, take it." you take it, and you smile when you see his aunt's jewelery. She had incredible taste, and she never wanted to leave the house without wearing them.

"I'm only taking the necklace. You should give one of these rings to your girlfriend, I'm sure she would love it." you put the box on the coffee table and you take out the necklace you had fallen in love with at the second you saw Doyoung's aunt wear it. "What did you say?" you ask when Doyoung says something, but with the way his teeth are clenched, it is impossible for you to understand something.

"I said, I don't have a girlfriend." you do something you should never have done, you flop down on the couch, waving your hands to get rid of the dust around you. "What? But you said you had one the other day." he heaves a long sigh as he sits down on the ground, grimacing when he realizes how bad of an idea it was. "I know, but I did not think, I only wanted to piss you off, I guess." you roll your eyes. "You guessed right, because it did piss me off."

"For real?" this is the conversation you wish you did not need to have, but you also know that Doyoung is stubborn and he will keep hasking until you give him the answer he wants. "You know it well, I don't need to explain."

"Please, do." of fucking course.

"Doyoung, you are my first boyfriend, my first husband, and of course, my first love. And you will remain my first love, no matter how much we hate each other. No matter how much we hate each other, I will still love you." you could say, no matter if you are married or not, you will still love him, but you do not see yourself married to someone that is not him, honestly.

"I don't hate you, you know." Doyoung says, and you tilt your head to the side. "Well, you do act like you hate me, so it is a bit hard to believe what you are saying." he brings one of his leg against his chest, his chin on his knee. "It's true though, I only act like that because you hate me, and I don't want to give you another reason to hate me even more."

"So you are telling me, that you only pretend to hate me, because I hate you?" he hums. "When I only act like that because you hate me." his eyes open wide, and it is almost comical, especially when he understand what you are saying. "So you don't hate me?"

"The last months of our relationship, and of course, the divorce, it hurt me a lot, way more than I thought it would, but that never meant that I hated you. Of course, I did hate you, for a while, but like I said, you are my first love, and I always wanted you to be my only love. So no, I never hated you as much as I tried to show you for the past few months."

Doyoung chuckles. "We are idiots." but his smile slowly fades. "By the way, I wanted to apologize for what I said the other day, when I said you always found a way to ruin everything." oh yes, that hurt like a bitch, and it still hurts, thinking about it. "It's fine, Doyoung, I know you only said that because you were mad at me, but please, don't say something like that again, because it hurt. And also because I'll punch you in the throat next time."

"Threats, threats, you always threaten me, but you never do anything about it." he says in a sigh, and you gasp. "Don't push me, Doyoung, because I will act on one of the threats."

"You're all bark and no bite."

You stand up, and you pounce on Doyoung whose mouth opens in a silent scream, he was not expecting you to act on your words. "I'm not going to punch you, because you still have to drive us back home, but I will do it, one day, trust me." you say, straddling his lap.

You only realize your position on Doyoung when he stops breathing. "Oh." you could move, stand up and sit back down on the couch, but something tells you that you should stay here. You meet Doyoung's gaze, and your eyes close when his fingers brush against your cheek. "What are you doing?" you ask in a whisper and you feel him shrug. "I don't know. But tell me if you want me to stop."

You wonder what he means by that, but soon enough, you feel his lips grazing against yours and your breath hitches in your throat. Don't do it, you want to scream, you are going to ruin everything, but you find yourself unable to speak. Why? Because you are dying to kiss him. You have been dying to kiss him for so long now, you were just stubborn, and too hurt to stop denying the truth.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks in a soft voice, and you open your eyes. You can see so many emotions in his eyes, so many emotions you had not seen in a long time. And you know you shouldn't, you know you should stop whatever is happening, get your stuff and ask him to drive you back home, but something is stopping you. Your heart is taking over your brain. "Please."

The feeling of his soft lips against yours is enough to bring back so many memories. The nights you spent in this living room, in front of the lit fireplace, kissing and giggling like teenagers trying to not wake up his parents and his aunt. You were in love back then, and the world did not exist around you. It was the two of you and only the two of you.

And it still is the same no matter what happened the past few months.

"I love you, I always loved you, and I will always love you." Doyoung says against your lips.

Four months later.

"What the hell are you doing? There are people around!" you explain when you see Doyoung kneeling on the ground, in front of all the friends you had invited for a weekend at the lake house. "Doyoung, come on, get up!"

He shakes his head, and he takes out a red silk case, the same one you have seen so many times placed on his aunt's dressing table. The one her husband proposed to marry her when she was barely 18. The same age you were when Doyoung first proposed to you. The conversations around stop, and you are pretty sure you heard a gasp.

"I know we've done it twice already. Once for love, and once for this house, but I want this time to be the one for eternity. This past year without you has been the worst, since you weren't by my side, for the first time since our teenage years. Life without you makes no sense, and I intend to take this second chance to redo everything, and to redo everything perfectly. My aunt said we deserved it, and you know what? I agree with her. That's why I would like to ask you to be my wife. Again."

He takes a deep breath, and he almost loses his balance but you are quick to put a hand on his shoulder to help him out. Even though it is not the first time, it does feel like it, you feel butterflies in your stomach, and your heart is pounding in your chest. "Of course I want to be your wife, Doyoung." you say and his smile is so bright that you almost have to look away, but you do not. This is the smile you love more than anything in the world.

This is Doyoung's smile. And you always loved him. And you know that whatever life throws at you, you will overcome everything, as long as you are together. And as long as you communicate.

#nct #nct imagines #nct scenarios #doyoung imagines #doyoung scenarios #nct angst

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chuuyasnumber1simp · 3 years

Text

Toxic- Dazai x GN! Reader

warnings: mentions of suicide, aftermath of attempted suicide, depictions of violence and torture, kidnapping, brief mentions of self harm, Dazai being toxic and borderline emotionally abusive but he has a reason, he’s a little emotionally stunted, general angst, a good ending but you have to work for it

word count: 4213

Dazai hated this time of year.

Summer was a season he oh so despised, sick of the uncomfortably hot weather that prompted people to ask why he was wearing so many layers in July.

He was sick of the pitied glances and confused faces as he strolled around Yokohama, adorning his usual trench coat and bandages.

But the one thing that made this season more bearable, was watching your face as you enjoyed all the summer activities. He couldn’t quite pin point when he started falling for you, but he did know it was around the same time he started pretending not to hate summer.

Dazai was a man of mystery, and preferred to stay that way (though deep down he wanted someone he could bare his soul with, but alas they always scurried away when he revealed the shattered pieces of his heart) yet you persisted in trying to crack him open, trying to see the real person behind the acting.

Yes, much to Dazai’s surprise, you figured out his profound talent for acting just weeks into your job at the ADA, and since attempted to see his real personality. Unfortunately, Dazai was always acting, even when he was not. Most of his life he has devoted to perfecting that act, his role, and not one single person has seen through all of the acting, all of the masks he wears. Everyday he wakes up, he climbs his tired and battered body upon that stage, and begins his act again. He has done this as long as he’s known, and he has no reason or desire to stop.

That is, until he met you.

Despite you only being able to see through his outermost mask, you’ve always understood him better than most people. Maybe that’s what drew him to you in the first place, the way you seemed at ease in his presence, seemingly ignoring his past and even present actions. He was enamored by your personality, and soon he too felt happier when you were around. He took this into account when you approached him after work, nervously ringing your hands together, refusing to meet his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you slightly stuttered the words he didn’t realize he wanted to hear so badly.

“Will y-you go out with me? I know you don’t really do dates, with the whole double suicide thing, and if you don’t feel the same about me that’s fine, I just really like being around you and your hot so I was just wondering—“

He silenced you by planting a soft kiss against your lips, hoping it conveyed what he hoped.

“Does that answer your question?”

The months after that were happy, a white spot on his relatively bleak life. You brightened his day when you entered the room, and he loved the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed.

Yet, he still could not find a reason to stop the attempts to end his own life.

He loved you, god he was sure of it by this point, but when he stripped of his bandages and held a razor to his wrist, your face did not flash in his mind.

When he leaned over the edge of a bridge, your smile did not make him hesitate, though he wished it did.

He was angry, angry at himself for not loving you enough, and angry at you, in some twisted way, for not being enough.

Dazai was confused, confused about why he was angry at you, and confused about why you weren’t enough of a reason to stop himself every time he tried to commit suicide.

For once, Dazai Osamu had a problem.

and he had absolutely no idea how to fix it.

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

This was really annoying situation.

This was your third hostage situation in a month, and honestly you were getting sick of it. You really didn’t know how you kept getting in these situations, although it wasn’t all that surprising considering your line of work.

Your coworkers -yourself included- often found themselves in situations not unlike this one, though theirs, especially poor Atsushi’s, were usually more severe.

Another day, another migraine.

This time, you were slightly afraid, just because the men here this time were more serious. The way they conducted this situation was less like a robbery plus hostages, and more like a search.

Like they were looking for someone.

This part concerned you, because who exactly could they be looking for? This was just a simple grocery store, and you doubted they received enough money to warrant the type of people these men were. Petty thieves? sure. Gang members that possessed impressive weapons? It was unusual to say the least.

Currently, they had you all lined up against the wall of the vegetable section, hands zip tied behind your back. Your unusual ability -dream manipulation- would not help you here. In fact, it usually help you at all, but you weren’t concerned about that right now.

You were concerned about why these men were asking every persons name, and what they would do once they got to you.

One of the men, tall and imposing, sporting all black and a ski mask, plus military grade boots stopped in front of you.

“Name,”

You swallowed thickly. “Why do you need that?”

No sooner had the words life your mouth did you feel the boot connect with your abdomen- and not in a nice way. You coughed harshly, a little blood dribbling out of the corner of your mouth.

“Name,”

You spit the blood onto his boot, Dazai’s defiant personality must have rubbed off on you a bit.

“I’m not giving it until you tell me why,”

You weren’t stupid- you worked at the Armed Detective Agency, and people like this don’t ask for names unless their lookin for someone, usually someone who’s ‘wronged’ them. Being in the ADA had given you a lot of friends, but also a lot of enemy’s. Being the s/o of a former mafia executive didn’t really help either.

This time, the boot met your face, throwing you directly backwards into the carrots. The feeling of cold metal on your forehead and a clicking sound net your ears, and you looked up.

“I’m going to ask one more time before I’ll have to get a little messy. What. Is. Your. Name,”

“Elvis Presley,”

You regretted your choice instantly, as the gun went off directly into your thigh. You screamed, bullet wounds were always more painful then other wounds you got on the job.

where was the police? where was Dazai?

pain made it difficult to think straight, but you surmised that giving your name would be your best bet in this situation. You were most likely whoever they were looking for, and you didn’t want to endanger the innocent hostages.

“Y/N L/N. That’s my name,”

The man roughly grabbed your arm and hauled you to your feet, dragging you away from the other hostages.

“Yeah, we got the right person. Come on, let’s get out of here before the good ol boyfriend comes along,”

A bag was placed over your head, and you were thrown into the back of what you assumed was a van. Your injury’s weren’t that severe, yet the pain was unrelenting. It seemed to increase the longer you had them, though you didn’t know why.

“I bet your wondering why your in more pain then you were a bit ago,”

a man who’s voice you didn’t recognize spoke once the van came to halt, and it set you on edge.

“That would be the handy work of my ability, which i must say, comes in handy in my line of work. I can make one injury, one tiny little paper cut hurt like a thousand knives are stabbing you,”

As he explained his ability, the pain increasingly got worse, until you were writhing on the van floor, tears streaking down your face. Eventually, it stopped, and you sagged in momentary relief, only to be dragged out of the van.

You were about to slip into a pain filled unconsciousness when the sting of a taser brought you back. You jerked and screamed, just wishing it to all be over.

“Ah ah ah,” the man with the pain ability spoke again. “We’re gonna need you conscious for all of this. It’ll be more fun for me, and more painful for you!”

“Why,” you said, voice already hoarse from the events of today. “What did I do,”

“It’s not really what you did, but more like what Dazai did,”

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

Dazai stood outside a warehouse, guilt and fear consuming him. His breaths were short and fast, and he could feel himself spiraling.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, you didn’t do anything, it’s my fault, god i am so STUPID—

“Dazai,”

Kunikida’s voice brought him away from his darkening thoughts, and Dazai tried to calm himself. Having a panic attack would not help the situation.

“Y/N is not helpless. I’m sure whatever this people have done, they’ll be fine,”

While Dazai wanted to believe his partner, he knew this specific group was known for their intense torture methods, because of their leaders ability. Dazai knew that the Port Mafia took down the majority of their organization, and he’d been tasked with breaking their leader, Takahashi Watanabe, and he did it through torturing and then murdering his fiancé. Dazai grimaced internally, the things he did in the Port Mafia usually did come back to bite him. He just wished they would leave you out of it.

This wasn’t the first time you had been dragged into grudges between Dazai and his old victims, and the guilt he felt about it had been building for some time now.

After deciding on a plan, Kunikida would take out the guards while trying to make as little noise as possible, and Dazai would enter, take down whoever was inside, and get you out. Kunikida would join him once he was done with the guards.

Kunikida’s ability came in handy at times like these, and although he did not show it, Dazai appreciated the strict man.

While Kunikida made quick work of the guards, Dazai slipped into a no longer protected entrance, and quietly surveyed the area.

Dazai had seen many things, he’d done many things, but absolutely nothing could have prepared him for your beaten and bleeding body, chained up against a wall, the ring leader standing in front of you.

Every time Takahashi flicked his wrist, you would start writhing in pain screaming out to whoever would hear you.

Dazai couldn’t stomach any more of his lover being tortured right in front of him, so he rushed out from his hiding place and punched him in the back of his head, feeling his own fingers fracture and pop at the force.

“That’s enough of that now,”

Takahashi was stupid, and left all of his men to guard the entrances, leaving no one actually inside the building but himself and you. Dazai undid the chains, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, sobbing loudly into his chest.

“I thought I was going to die, it was so painful—“

“I know,” Dazai ran his non injured hand through your hair, rubbing circles in your back with the other. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here fast enough,”

“It’s okay,”

Although you told him it was okay, Dazai could not ignore the pit of guilt gnawing away at his insides. Every time this happened the guilt got stronger, taking over his mind, the thoughts of you being better off without him filled his mouth and head, choking him with all the softness of ash. He’d debated breaking up with you for months, not because he no longer loved you, but because the less you were attached to him, the less likely you were to be dragged into these situations.

Takahashi was the final straw, so while Kunikida drove the car that held you and Dazai back to the agency, Dazai silently made up his mind that it would be easier for you to break up with him if you hated him. Though it pained him to think of no more soft mornings with you by his side, or quiet nights where he wakes up heaving and your there to comfort him, he knows that you’ll be better, happier without him.

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

Yosano healed you quickly, as Dazai waited nervously outside the door, swollen and purple fingers throbbing. You came out looking good as new, though Dazai doubted you had mentally and emotionally recovered at all.

He walked you back to the apartment, assuring you that Kunikida would let the both of you off easy this once, considering the day you’ve had.

And for once, Dazai was quiet.

The walk was quiet, and not in a good way. You were inside your own head, reeling from the events of today, and Dazai was mentally preparing himself for the conversation he was about to have with you upon arriving at your apartment.

“Ugh,” You collapsed on the couch, not even changing out of your bloody and filthy clothes before wrapping yourself in a blanket.

Dazai felt his heart twist as you looked up at him with your big e/c eyes, and knew what he was going to do would hurt you. And for that, he internally apologized.

“Dazai? Is something wrong? you’ve been quiet ever since we left the agency. You didn’t even joke when Atsushi fell asleep in a cupboard again,”

“I’m breaking up with you,”

You scoffed. “Yeah right. Come on, what’s really bothering you?”

“No I’m serious,” He willed his eyes to remain cold, and hoped his face showed no sign of emotion. “I don’t love you, and to be honest I’m not sure I ever did. It was a nice thought, our relationship, but really, I just wanted to see how long I could take this with you,”

Your eyes were filled with confusion and hurt, and he saw tears prick the corners of your eyes.

“W-What?”

“Ah, did poor little Y/N think I really loved them? Or were you just projecting your emotions onto me, like you always do,”

The hurt in your eyes turned to anger. “You know what? Go to hell. If you think you can just play with my emotions and lead me on for five months, then I never want to see you again,”

“That’s the spirit!” Dazai snapped his fingers.

Stop.

“Were you lying then? This whole time, was it all a lie?”

The bandage covered brunette rolled his eyes. “Duh,”

Your hurting them. Stop it.

You wiped the tears from your eyes, then stood up and met him with a cold stare.

“I hope your next suicide is a success you monster,”

You walked out of the apartment with your head held high, though he knew you, so he knew you would probably head to Yosano’s place, and breakdown there. Maybe even Atsushi’s, if you really felt sad.

When he watched you slam the door, it all hit him, that you were gone, and he’d done it on purpose.

He’d ruined the only good thing he had in life, so now, once more, Dazai Osamu was alone.

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

If Dazai hadn’t hated himself before, he definitely did now.

When he walked into work the next day, Atsushi slapped him. Hard.

Atsushi, of all people, had slapped Dazai.

The entire agency stopped, save for Ranpo, as Dazai lifted a hand to the growing red mark on his cheek.

“How dare you,” Atsushi started, eyes wild, tiger fur starting to grow from his arms. “Be an absolute dick to Y/N. You lead them on for five months Dazai, and then had the audacity to break it off after they got tortured? Because of how disgusting of a person you were? No, let me correct myself, how much of a disgusting person you are. If it were up to me, I’d fire you from the agency, and ship you back to the Port Mafia, since your so keen on being a monster!”

Dazai could feel his façade crumbling, and he felt the shocked and outright disgusted looks of his coworkers.

“If I were you,” Yosano spoke very quietly. “I would leave while you still have your life. You being immune to my ability will not stop me from slicing your entire body into pieces if you don’t leave and go back to whatever sewer you crawled out of,”

Dazai took his cue and left, letting his façade break when he hears you sniffle next to Kenji. Eyes downcast, Dazai whispers something so quiet not even Atsushi’s enhanced hearing could detect it.

“I’m sorry,”

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

Dazai didn’t get out of bed for three days.

He couldn’t even sleep, dreams of you being tortured was all he saw whenever he closed his eyes. The memory of your face as he ripped apart your heart forever ingrained in his mind, a testimony to his treachery.

He wept bitterly, aware that all of your suffering he was the cause of. He was no doubt fired from his job, Fukuzawa was a kind and patient man, but he would not allow this kind of plain heartlessness. He’d known what kind of man Dazai was when he applied for a job at the ADA, but Dazai knew no amount of kindness could forgive what he’d done to you.

He dragged himself into the living room, turning on the tv, hoping to distract himself from his thoughts.

He flicked through the channels, then almost dropped the remote when he saw the report.

“The Armed Detective Agency building is currently on fire, Detectives Kunikida, Ranpo, and their coworkers have all exited the building safely, but Detective L/N is still inside. Due to their injury’s, the remaining detectives have not been permitted to re-enter the building to save Detective L/N, leaving all of us to pray they make it out alive. Their healer, Yosano, is out on a business trip, so all we can do is put our faith in modern medicine,”

Dazai ran out the door before the news reporter had even finished speaking, throwing on shoes and sprinting the the office. Luckily, he lived close enough to get there in ten minutes, and he spared no time ducking under the police tape.

“Dazai! Stop!” Kunikida yelled at him from beside a fire truck, and several firemen and policemen tried to stop him. He flashed his ADA badge -thank god he brought it with him- and dashed inside the burning building.

He choked on the heavy smoke, coughing heavily.

“Y/N! Where are you!”

He climbed the stairs, ignoring the burns of the flames that licked his arms and legs.

He burst into the office, fire consuming the room. He jumped over some fire that had spread across the floor, looking under each desk. Finally, under Ranpo’s desk, you were curled up clutching a stack of files.

“D-Dazai?” Soot covered your face, and he could hear your lungs heaving.

“I know I’m the last person you want to see right now, but your going to die if you stay in here,”

Carrying you bridal style, he ran out of the room, but stopped because the stairs down to the last level had completely caved in. It wasn’t too far to jump, by the only thing that greeted the both of you were bright orange flames.

He looked out the window beside you two, wasting no time to punch the glass, not caring about the shards stuck in his knuckles, before looking down at your form. You couldn’t longer see the rise and fall of your chest, and almost screamed.

“This might hurt,”

He leapt out the window, clutching you close to him, tucking and rolling so he took the brunt of the damage. With a sickening crunch, his shoulder popped out of its socket, but he didn’t care, he laid your lifeless form on the pavement, and began CPR.

“Someone get me an ambulance!” He yelled, never stopping chest compressions. His arms ached, his dislocated shoulder screaming at him to stop.

“Come on Y/N, wake up!” He screamed, tears making streak marks on his grime covered his face. He was vaguely aware of a medic running over to him, he could barley see past the blur of his own tears.

The medic gently took you away from him, and he held his face in his hands, sobbing. Atsushi crouched down besides him, but Dazai didn’t care. He didn’t care that anyone watching could see him cracking and breaking, he just wanted to know if you were okay.

“Why are you upset? I thought you didn’t love her?”

Dazai stood up. “I lied. I was stupid, and I lied, because don’t you see,” he turned to Atsushi, aware of the manic look he must have in his eyes. “She’s better off without me. She keeps getting injured because of my disgusting past. You said it yourself, I’m a monster,”

“Dazai—“ Atsushi started.

“Y/N is gone, and all of this is my fault,”

No one knew what to do, they’d never seen Dazai show this much emotion, they’d never seen his faces break, never seen him this broken.

Kenji was the only to move, the only to step towards the form of the crumbling man before them.

“Do you love them?”

“Yes. I really do. Now I’m scared I’ll never get to tell them again,”

Kenji motioned to Kunikida, and Dazai’s partner stepped toward him.

“Your truly an idiot Dazai. Don’t you think Y/N knew what they were getting into when they started dating you?”

“Well I don’t know, but I didn’t want them to get hurt anymore so I—“

“And therein lies your issue. You made a decision for them, without even asking their thoughts. Now you’ve caused pain for the both of you, and you may never get to apologize. Although I’m positive Y/N will make it out of this, i think you should go to the hospital to be there when they wake up,”

Dazai simply nodded once, taking in Kunikida’s words, then walked in the direction of the hospital. Kunikida was right. He is stupid. But hopefully, not too stupid for you.

He must’ve looked so dumb, walking into your hospital room, nervously ringing his hands together, not unlike you did when you asked him out.

“Dazai? What are you doing here?”

“Um, I kind of wanted to apologize. For being a monster,” his voice hitched on the last word, and he hoped you didn’t notice.

“Well? I’m waiting. Just because you saved my life doesn’t mean i don’t resent you for what you said,”

“I know I just...” Dazai took a deep breath before continuing.

“I’ve hated myself for a long time, that’s no mystery. But when we were together, it made all the pain go away. Even if it was just for a moment, it felt good. But, I lied to you. I’m stupid and I lied to you. I thought if you hated me, it’d be easier for you to get over me. I was wrong, but please understand,” he took your hand in his. “I didn’t break up with you because I didn’t love you. It’s the opposite. I love you, a lot, but you keep getting dragged into messes and horrible situations because of how much of a horrible person I was. How much of a horrible person I am,” Dazai hated the way his voice had started to wobble, but he kept going. “Y/N, I’m so sorry I told you all those things. I’m so sorry I broke up with you, and I’m sorry for how much my past has put you through. If you still never want to see me again, I understand, and I’ll leave now,” At this point, tears were quietly slipping down his cheeks, splattering on your hand that was held by Dazai’s. “Sorry,”

You locked Dazai with a hard gaze. “I haven’t fully forgiven you just yet. Breaking up with me over something that could have been discussed was stupid of you,”

Dazai nodded, turning to leave the room.

“But,”

But?

You continued softly. “Someone who doesn’t love me wouldn’t jump out of a burning building and perform CPR that saved my life. I don’t think your a monster, and I don’t think your a horribly person. A little dumb yeah, and definitely not perfect, but you know,”

He turned back to face you, hope rising in his chest.

“I think that’s why I fell in love with you. Because of the person you are underneath, the person you are underneath all that acting,”

Despite you still being injured, you wobbled over to his shaking form.

“So, Dazai Osamu, I’m willing to give you a second chance. Provided you vow to try to stop committing suicide, because it hurt when you did it. It hurt to know that I wasn’t enough to keep you here. And next time, let’s talk about stuff okay?”

He nodded mutely, and you opened your arms.

“Come here,”

He wasted no time hugging you tight, shamelessly crying. Tears of sadness, tears of joy whatever they were, Dazai didn’t care.

Because Dazai had finally found his reason for living.

Hi this is self indulgent nd i wrote it on my phone. Its a vent sorta, i kinda want one of my comfort characters to hug me rn :))))) messed up family life amiright guys

#dazai #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader

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atlafan · 4 years

Text

Take it Slow - Part Eighty-Three

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: fluff

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

You wake up to Harry’s crushing weight on you. You had no idea how you could have possible ended up like this since you thought you fell asleep on him. Your eyes slowly open, and you’re met with the headache you figured you’d have. You look around and see everyone else still fast asleep. Harry rolls over and you feel the air come back to your lungs. You were cozy and didn’t feel like getting up just yet so you decide to spoon Harry for a bit.

Eventually you all sit up and try to come back to life. Harry sits up and smiles at you.

“Happy birthday, angel.” He says into your ear and kisses your cheek.

Before you can say thank you, Rachel and Sarah dog pile on you and scream happy birthday. You giggle and playfully tell them to get off you.

“We’re gonna make pancakes for breakfast.” Rachel says.

“And mimosas. Need new alcohol to flush out the old.”

“Good idea.” You smile.

They go into the kitchen while the rest of you clean up the living room. You go upstairs just to brush your teeth and wash your face. You didn’t feel like getting dressed yet. Harry did the same. You both plop on the couch while you wait for breakfast to be made. He throws his arm around you and you snuggle in close.

“So, that was your ex at the bar last night?” Harry’s face goes pale.

“Surprised you remember.”

“I was fucked up, but I certainly wouldn’t forget threatening someone.”

“That was pretty cool.” Niall says.

“That was the girl you saw before me though?”

“You make it sound like I was with her and then with you right away. It was like three years ago.” He groans. “I have no idea why she got so mad either.”

Sarah comes over with a plate of pancakes, topped with plenty of butter and a little syrup, just how you like it.

“I’m so spoiled, thank you.”

“You’re the baby of the group, you deserve to be a little spoiled.”

She laughs and sits with Niall with their breakfast. Rachel and Mariah sit down as well. Rachel hands Harry the banana he requested for his own breakfast.

“Seems like it must have been a bad break up if she was so aggravated to be running into you.” Mariah says.

“There wasn’t much to break, honestly.”

“Harry.” You look at him. “You were with that girl for seven months, come on.”

“Wasn’t in love, didn’t see it goin’ in that direction, and she thought it was more than it was. Remember, I told you I ended it when she wanted a key to my place? Didn’t want it with her.” He shrugs and bites into his banana. “Clearly she found someone else, good for her.”

“She said you only liked being called by your name.”

“I did, at the time. Pet names would have just led her on more.” Everyone’s looking at him. “I…was not a very nice person back then, okay? Can we drop it?”

You place a hand on his knee and give him a little squeeze.

“I thought she was going to wet herself when you got in her face.” Rachel laughs. “I love when you get feisty.”

“She was disrespecting my man! What could I do?” You shrug and finish up your pancakes. “That was so yummy, thanks guys.”

“What time do we need to be at the ferry?” Harry asks Sarah.

“In like an hour and a half. It won’t take long to get there, but we should all probably get dressed.”

You all go upstairs to get dressed. Harry watches you take a pair of spandex shorts out, along with a pair of shorts to wear over them, ones you would wear to the gym. You pull out a sports bra, and a tank top you would also wear to the gym. You look up at him.

“We’re gonna be doing a lot of walking, might get sweaty.”

Harry nods, and picks out a pair of shorts a graphic t. You flip your hair over and put it up into a messy bun. Your phone goes off after you get dressed and your face lights up.

“Hello?” You put the phone on speaker so he can hear your Nannie sing happy birthday to you. Your eyes fill with happy tears. You take it off speaker once she’s done. “Thank you.” You giggle.

“How are you, baby?”

“I’m great!”

“What are you up to?”

“I’m at the Cape with all my friends, and Harry. We’re going to the Vineyard in a bit.”

“Oh how nice! Good weather?”

“Mhm, it’s been beautiful all weekend so far. We got lucky.”

“Oh, I’m so glad honey. Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Thanks Nannie, I love you.”

“I love you too, precious.”

You hang up and smile.

“That was really cute.” Harry says.

“She’s done it forever.” He kisses you on to top of your head and you both head downstairs.

You all pile into Sarah’s car, and Niall drives to the ferry. You get on and take pictures with your friends. You all find places to sit, and Harry puts his arm around you. When you get off you walk around for a while. There was a neighborhood with all of these brightly colored homes, and later you come to the house with all of the Betty Boop stuff out front. You and your friends all pose like her and Harry takes your pictures. Him and Niall pose too, causing you all to laugh.

None of you wanted to eat too heavily since you’d be going out to eat later, but you had to stop into the ice cream shop that seemed to have a million flavors. Plus, sitting for a bit didn’t sound like a bad idea. You get cookies and cream in a dish with some whip cream. Harry gets a strawberry cone. You all sit down outside the ice cream shop.

“How about a walk on the beach after?” Mariah asks.

“Great idea.” Niall says. “Work off this heavy ice cream.”

It was super hot out, and all the ice cream was melting quickly. That’s why you opted out of getting a cone. You look over to see Harry trying to lick at his ice cream so it doesn’t make a mess, but a little drips onto his hand. You giggle and lean down to lick it off him. He raises both his eyebrows.

“Should have grabbed more napkins.” You say with a smile. “Thought I’d improvise.”

“Like where your head’s at.” He chuckles.

All of your friends had seen you and Harry interact plenty of times, but never for this long of a stretch. This was almost a trial weekend for Sarah and Rachel. Rachel had told Sarah about the deeper conversation her and Harry had when painting. Sarah knew Harry wanted to marry you. Your friends were very over protective, and this was a great way to just really make sure he was right for you.

Your phone blows up with texts from friends and family wishing you a happy birthday. Sarah and Rachel had posted cute things on Instagram earlier in the day. Even Harry made a post, using some pictures you didn’t even know he had. It made you tear up when you first looked at it.

When you’re all done with your ice cream, you all make your way to the beach. You all carry your shoes so you can walk along the water.

“Sarah, what time do we have to check out tomorrow? Will we be able to go to the beach in the morning?” You ask.

“Yeah! We don’t have to be out until like 1PM, so plenty of time.”

“Perfect! I’d like to get a little more sun in before we have to leave.”

“Agreed.”

You all agree it’s been a great day, but you’re exhausted and wouldn’t mind just chilling out before going out to dinner later, so you make your way back to the ferry. Harry stands off to the side with you as you make your way back to the main land. You have an arm around his waist and he has one around your shoulders.

“Quick get a picture of them.” Rachel says.

Niall takes his phone out and snaps a couple of pictures of you two looking off. Harry tilts your chin up to look at him and he puckers his lips. You smile up at him and kiss him. Niall gets a shot of that too. You all hang out in the living room for a bit, just watching some TV. You were sitting up against the arm rest of the couch with Harry laying at your side, his head in the crook of your neck. Your baby was tired. You stroke your hand through his hair as you hear his soft snores. Sarah takes your picture with him and you giggle quietly.

“So, we’re gonna go to that seafood place you really like, and then we’ll come back here to do cake and gifts and stuff.” Sarah explains to you as she flips through a magazine.

“Sounds good, I hope you guys didn’t go too crazy with gifts, this has been gift enough.”

“No, just some small things like we usually do.” She smiles and looks at Harry. “How can he sleep like that? Niall and I have to sleep butt to butt to be comfortable.” She laughs.

“Hey, you make it sound like we don’t cuddle at all.” He says with a frown, putting a hand on her thigh.

“No! We cuddle all the time, but we never sleep like that.” She points at Harry who is absolutely passed out.

“He’s always been like this.” You look down at him and smile. “Sometimes I wake up and he’s all the way on top of me. If I’m not sleeping next to him, like if he’s napping he sleeps with his arms crossed. I think he likes having something to hold onto.”

“It’s true, if he fell asleep on the couch in school he’d either be cross armed or spooning one of the cushions.” Niall laughs. “When we were campin’-“

“Niall, I swear to god.” Harry groans against your neck.

“Ohhh, I love when there’s something Harry doesn’t wanna share.” Mariah says. “Go on Niall.”

“It was really funny. Harry and Lou had to share a tent because Lou didn’t have one, so-“

“Niall.” Harry turns over onto his back and sits up slightly. “Here I am havin’ a nice nap, and you have to go and bring up campin’?”

“I’m gonna end up embarrassin’ myself just as much.” He laughs.

“Please, I need to hear this.” You say. “What happened?”

“I woke up cuddling Louis both mornings.” Harry says. “And both mornings, Niall came into the tent and joined us, so there.” You and the girls all look at each other with soft faces.

“That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.” Sarah says.

“Yeah, we cuddle all the time.” Rachel says. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“You’re such a snugly sleeper Harry, it’s cute.” You poke one of his dimples. “I personally really like it, it makes me feel safe.” He looks up at you and smiles.

Later you all go upstairs and get ready for dinner. You pick out a flowy yellow sundress, and put your hair up into a high pony. You pull some pieces out like always to frame your face, and you put a little makeup on.

“You look so pretty.” Harry practically squeals. You giggle as he kisses your cheek.

You step back to look at him. He has a pair of tan capri-style pants on with a pair of loafers, and a salmon pink silk shirt.

“So do you.” You smile, and grab his hand to go down the stairs.

You all weren’t sure if you’d be drinking a lot, but you’d be drinking nonetheless at dinner, so you uber to the restaurant. You’re seated at a nice size round table when you get there. Harry was off speaking to one of the waiter’s quick, but you didn’t notice. He sits down next to you, and Niall is on your other side.

You all order your drinks and a few apps for the table before deciding on what you actually want.

“What are yeh thinkin’, sweetheart?” Harry asks you.

“I’m dying for a lobster roll to be honest.”

“Then you should have it.” He smiles. “Think I’m gonna get this veggie burger, it’s an avocado aioli, sounds good.”

You pick at the calamari that’s on the table when the waiter comes back over to take your dinner orders. You all talk about how you’re dreading to going back to reality soon.

“This seriously has been the best trip. As much as I miss Buster, it was so nice to get away.”

“You act like you weren’t just in London like three weeks ago.” Rachel laughs.

“Yeah, I suppose that sounded stupid.” You laugh, taking a sip of your drink. “But that wasn’t a beach getaway.”

“Very true.”

“And we only have to go back to reality for like a week and half until we’re off to Ireland.” Niall says, squeezing Sarah’s hand.

“I’m so excited, what a perfect thing to do before school starts back up.”

“God, I’m not looking forward to getting into a hot and stuffy classroom that smells like old paint.” Rachel laughs. “Although, I have missed my students a little.”

“Same, I can’t wait to meet my new kids.”

“My next class starts in September, this’ll be my fourth one. It’s already flying by, thank god.” The waiter brings all the food over and you lick your lips before diving into the lobster. “Mm, oh my god, now I remember why I liked it here so much last time. This is a damn good lobster roll.”

You all enjoy your meals and more drinks. When you think the night couldn’t get better, you start to hear the restaurant’s birthday song, and your mouth falls open. All your friends were filming you and you smile and laugh as you’re sung to by everyone. You had no idea when someone had the time to bring your cake to the restaurant ahead of time, but you didn’t question it. It was beautiful.

“Thank you everyone!”

One of the waiters leaves a knife at the table, and Harry cuts the came for everyone.

“This was all Harry’s idea, but the way.” Sarah says and you smile at him as he takes a bite of cake.

“Thank you sweetie, this was so nice.”

“He had the cake made at this really nice bakery too.” Rachel says.

“It was all the two of you would let me control out of this whole weekend, I had to do something big.”

You all enjoy the cake and pack up the leftovers. You uber back to the house and your friends have you sit on the couch while they all grab their gifts for you.

“You guys really didn’t have to do anything more for me, honestly.”

“Oh stop it.” Rachel hands you a drink and you smile. “Of course we did.”

Sarah hands you her gift first.

“I’ve been working on this for months so I hope you like it.”

You tear open the wrapping paper and gasp when you see the homemade scarf she knitted.

“Oh my god, I love it! This is beautiful! I love the patterns.”

“I know you can’t wear it for a while, obviously, but you wore so many this winter, I thought I could add to your collection.”

“Thank you so much, I can’t wait to…hold on.” You wrap the scarf around your neck. “Well?”

“It’s perfect!” You hug your friend and giggle.

Rachel hands you a big, and you dig into it. You laugh immediately, and pull out the t-shirt she got you.

“You can only wear that for a year.”

It was a white t-shirt with a picture of that episode of Spongebob, and the caption says, “I thought of something better than being 24…25!”

“I got it off Etsy, I just couldn’t resist.”

“I love it! I’m gonna wear it all the time, this is hilarious, Rach.” You slip it on over your dress and scarf. “I’m really feeling this vibe.”

Mariah hands you a card.

“It’s just a gift card…” She blushes.

“Thank you so much!” You open it up and smile at the card. “I’m glad we’ve become such good friends too. Wouldn’t want anyone else as my boyfriend’s work-wife.” You both laugh.

Niall looks at you and hands you his gift. You smile and unwrap it. You had no idea what it could be. You tear open the wrapping paper, the same Sarah used so she must know what he got you. You gasp and look at him in shock.

“You got me a Stranger Things version of monopoly?”

“For the next game night.”

“I love it! Thank you.” You hug him.

“Okay, Harry, your turn.” Sarah says to him and he sits next to you.

“I had a tough time with this. I’ve gotten yeh earrings, a chain, and even that watch.” Your heart starts to race. The only other piece of jewelry he could possibly give you was a ring. Was he going to propose in front of your closest friends? How sweet! “And we already went to the concert, but I still wanted to get you a little something.” He slips a card out from his back pocket and hands it to you. You open it up and see an itinerary for a round trip ticket. You look up at him confused.

“Another trip?”

“Not for you…you were really sad that your Nan couldn’t come up for our house warmin’, even though you had gotten to see her in Aruba…and you always talk about how much you miss havin’ her around for your Jewish holidays, so I’m flyin’ her up for the New Year in September. And she’s goin’ to stay with us so you don’t have to share any of your time with her, cause I know you hate that.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you start sobbing. You covers your eyes with your hands. Harry isn’t sure what to do, and neither is anyone else.

“That is…” You say in a high pitched voice between your tears. “The sweetest things anyone’s ever done for me.” You lunge on top of him to hug him. He chuckles and rubs your back. “I love you, thank you so much.” You kiss him.

“You’re welcome, happy birthday.”

You look at everyone and wipe your tears away.

“Thank you all so much, this all means so much to me. I’m so lucky to have all of you.” You all share a group hug.

You had thought to use the fire-pit tonight, but it was drizzling outside, so you all opt for getting cozy in pj’s, drinks, and another movie. You went to call your Nannie again to tell her how good she was at being sneaky. You talked with your mom for a few minutes too so she could wish you a happy birthday. Your siblings had all texted you during the day.

You were all hanging out and just being cozy, and you loved it. Sarah had made frozen margaritas, your favorite. You also dove into a much needed second piece of cake.

“So we’ll go to the beach for a bit in the mornin’?” Niall asks.

“Yeah, if it’s not still raining.” Sarah says. “Then we can come back and pack everything up. The kitchen is all cleaned up, and the air bnb people said they would send a service in to clean out the fridge and what not. We don’t even need to make the beds up.”

“Love when they make things so convenient.” Rachel says. “Harry, don’t you use air bnb for your flat in London?”

“Yeah, my sister is the cleanin’ crew though.” He laughs. “We just tell the people to strip the bed and take out all their trash. She’ll do some of the easier things, but will hire a maid if she thinks the mess is too much for her to take care of.”

You all decide to watch I Love You, Man, another one of your favorites, before going to bed. There were a few times you laughed so hard you cried.

“It’s just the way he says Jobin, it kills me.” You wipe some tears away.

“Nice that both of your boyfriends are in this movie together.” Harry jokes.

“I regret ever telling you I liked them.” You shake your head.

“Honestly, as gay as I am, I would fuck Paul Rudd.” Rachel says and you all burst out laughing. “I mean, look at him!”

“That’s what I’m saying! And look at baby Andy, he still had the curls! Oh my god, next movie night we have to watch Hot Rod, please, we have to.”

“Yes! I haven’t watched that in years.” Sarah says.

When the movie ends you all go up to bed. You couldn’t wait to just wrap your arms around Harry. He lays his head on your chest.

“I love you so much, thank you for everything.” You kiss the top of his head.

“I love you too, you’re more than welcome.”

“How did you even pull all that off?”

“Asked your mum for her phone number. It was a bitch gettin’ her to let me buy the plane ticket, she started yellin’ at me, but I yelled back, I stood my ground. She started laughin’ and gave in. She was really excited.”

“It’ll be so great, she and I can make her brisket together. We used to have the New Year at my house growing up, it was so much fun.”

“I’m glad I could do this for you then.”

“My boss is gonna think I don’t like working anymore with how much time off I’ve been taking. I’ll definitely take a few days while Nannie’s here.”

“You won’t need too much, just Friday and Monday.” You hum your response.

Harry had another reason for wanting your grandmother there around that time…but that would be revealed to you later.

#take it slow #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #hope you like!

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r-ahh-mi · 5 years

Text

Under The Necklace

Pairing: Rami Malek x Reader

Summary: Rami is asked in an interview about how he lost his virginity and begins to reminisce about the woman who captured his heart in high school..little does he know that the very woman isn’t as far away as he would have thought. In this scenario, all of the flashbacks are of Rami & reader at the age of 18 (because we love legal adults getting it on).

Warnings: Slight sexual content & swearing.

Word Count: 5.1k

Permanent Tag List: @frami-mercury-malek @lovelymalekk @mezzomercury @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash @amcquivey

Despite her best efforts, she was still questioning herself and the outfit she’d put together. Don’t even get her started on the hair. God, it was awful; not to most people, but to her coworkers who knew of the usual messy bun she threw her hair up in each day, it was awful in the most pathetic way possible.

She had bragged before, in previous job positions, about who she had lost her virginity to two decades ago, she wouldn’t deny that. I mean who could hold back the secret that your precious ‘v’ card was in the hands of an Oscar winner and a fairly attractive one at that. However, seeing as she was working in the media herself, as a journalist, she had quieted down a few notches, not wanting to give herself a name as someone who is constantly dropping any celebrities name that she’d ever had contact with, but also because she knew at some point she would have to come in contact with him.

Today just happened to be that day.

Although neither of them had spoken since high school, she always admired him from afar. Taking note of the various projects he’d been involved in (and binge watching them on various occasions) and, as apart of her job, keeping up with him and his whereabouts. However, today was the first time she could possibly have contact with him. The magazine she worked for decided to have Rami be their ‘cover boy’ for the month and, of course, when she heard the news she immediately felt a down pour of emotions -- happiness, shyness, a slight bit of anxiety, but mostly just pure curiosity.

See, her and Rami had dated in high school, nothing major or drama filled, just casually dated for a few months during her senior year, but both decided to end the brief romance due to them both attending separate colleges. However, that didn’t make their relationship any less special, especially since, they both entertained their first sexual experiences with one another on the night of their senior prom.

As she brightened up the dulled out pink lipstick in the bathroom mirror, she couldn’t help but reflect on the worried brow and gentle touch that he showed her that night when they were both terribly hormonal and at the peak of their feelings for one another. In fact, she’s a thousand percent sure one could see the bumps appearing on her arms as the shivers rang through her skin just trying to feel and imagine his delicate kisses that he placed all over her body. She popped her mouth, perfecting the matte shade on her lips, as she snuggled the tube into her blazer pocket and headed for the bathroom door. Immediately, one of her coworkers greeted her.

“Are you nervous about today?”

She shrugged, attempting to give off the vibe that it was no big deal in her mind as both of the ladies walked down the hallway together.

“Why would I be nervous?”

“Maybe because your going to be sitting in on your ex boyfriends interview.”

She shook her head, “We dated in high school and it was for a couple of months. You’re acting as if he was my long term lover or the one that got away.”

“Oh! but what if he is? What if this is all fates doing and he’s coming back into your life so you guys can finally be together and-”

“Not to bust your precious little fairy tale, but honestly, it was nothing serious. All we did was lose our virginity to one another.” She said the last part just slightly above a whisper

“Fine..but you clearly have put an effort into your appearance so you must want to get something out of him being here”, her coworker bumped their hips together as she shook her head with a laugh, feeling the bright red coming on to her cheeks.

“I just want him to know that i’m doing well...IF he even recognizes me at all. I haven’t spoken to him in twenty years and I don’t exactly look the same as I used to.”

“Yeah and neither does he. God he’s so handsome.”

She slightly shook her head, thinking back to those times she had to look at the candid shots of him browsing New York or chatting away at an event. His chiseled jaw was a far cry from the baby faced Rami she knew.

The beeping on her smart watch made her slightly jump as she apologized to her co worker for needing to get out of the conversation as she headed down a flight of stairs, into the room where Rami would be being interviewed. She had set her alarm which would allow her just enough time to ensure everything was set in place for the interview. Although she wasn’t the one giving the interview today (thank god) she would be the one sitting in, by the camera, to make sure all technical equipment was working properly and to assist the interviewer should they need to make any last minute or on the spot revisions to the questions they would be asking.

As she entered the dimly lit room, there were various different people scattering around the room as if they were chickens fresh from the slaughter; she, however, was quite calm considering the circumstances. Maybe it was because she was too preoccupied with the thought of them both being in the same room together in a mere amount of minutes, or maybe..that was it. That was the only excuse and proper explanation, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to own up to the fact that he was having that much of an affect on her.

“Are you Y/N?”

A beautiful, young dark haired girl stood in front of her, slightly frazzled hair and even wider eyes were the first thing that caught her eye as she looked at the unfamiliar women.

“I am yes, can I help you with something?”

“I’m Rami’s assistant and just wanted to ensure everything on his list is cleared with your interviewer. It’s some subjects he would prefer not to be asked about.”

Hearing his name made her subconsciously hesitate a little as his assistant held her hand out for a couple seconds too long for her liking as she let a small clearing sound in her throat ring in the bustling room. In an instant, she snatched the paper from her hands, glancing over it --- it was a list she had already seen and cleared with the interviewer, but to please the women, who already seemed to be annoyed at her, she gave her a smile and turned on her heels to head for the fresh new girl they had just hired who would be delivering the questions to their celebrity guest today.

“I know you’ve seen this list before, but please look over it as if you haven’t and pretend it’s interesting enough for that women to stop glaring at me. Sound good?”

The new girl laughed slightly as she let her eyes brush over the words on the paper as she pretended to analyze it carefully.

“Perfect”, she whispered into the new girls ear as she gave the girls shoulder a slight squeeze, making both of the girls smile out of amusement.

She was called to yet another task by someone in Rami’s entourage almost immediately, making her have to exit the room and scamper out into the hallway to make a quick phone call to her boss. What she wasn’t expecting was for Rami to walk down the very same hallway while her phone was glued to her ear. He looked so casual and normal - a far cry from his new lifestyle, but his plain button up and fitted jeans and the way he walked down the hallway all by himself, edging nearer and nearer to her, in that moment it felt like he was just a normal guy, not someone who was being attacked by the media wanting more and more from him. It almost made her sad to say that she too was apart of that very media, just in a different form -- at least the magazine she worked for wasn’t fueled by paparazzi shots and fake headlines.

As Rami walked closer and closer down the hall, she could feel her pulse quicken and her brain completely shut itself off from the conversation she was attempting to have on the phone that she’d completely forgotten about. Of course, Rami gave her nothing but a brief nod and friendly smile -- of course he didn't’ recognize her, if it weren’t for his celeb status, she wouldn’t have recognized him either should she have walked next to him on a street. However, that didn’t make the slight ping of sadness any less prominent....but there wasn’t time for slithering around and moping about some boy she had relations with in high school. This was her job and one that she was good at, she knew she was, and she wasn’t about to let anyone distract her anymore than he already had.

She apologized to her boss over the phone, blaming it on another demand being made on Rami’s crews behalf, but she eventually got the clarification she needed and was able to re-enter the interview space and take her spot in the back by the camera’s, making her body only a mere outline against the dimly lit room.

As she adjusted her dress to cover just a tad more of the flesh on her thighs, she heard his laugh. Although many things had changed since the two decades since they last interacted, his laugh remained the same. Alright, maybe it was just a smidge deeper, thanks to puberty, but it was still something she would have always known to be familiar had she heard it at any given time. She watched as Rami politely waved to the entire crew, making small eye contact with her, as he then properly introduced himself to the interviewer, giving her a friendly hand shake and smile as he made himself comfortable in the brown leather chair which he was now seated in.

Rami:

I was in no mood today for an interview. Fourteen hours straight of filming the night prior and then only being allotted six hours to sleep until I had to show up here and look poised, content, and fashionable was anything but enjoyable, but I wasn’t one to take out my exhaustion on my team or whomever was scheduled to hold my attention for the afternoon. So I smiled, I acted friendly and, as if I had just received an abundance of sleep the night before, even if that was anything further from the truth. At least this magazine seemed to be half decent as opposed to ones fueled by lies and made up scandals, not to mention the employee’s here seemed to be quite easy on the eyes.

“How much time have we got?”

The interviewers posh British accent was a major contrast the the other woman’s American one as she whispered a reply to the interviewer, making small, but obvious eye contact with me.

I knew her from somewhere, but I wasn’t able to pinpoint where exactly. Maybe walking down the street, maybe we sat on the same subway car when she visited New York, who knows, but that face and those eyes and the pout of her full lips may seem normal when described, but they were so unique and so distant, yet very familiar to me. It almost sparked my attention enough for me to ask if i’d met her before when I first saw her in the hallway; had she not had a phone pressed to her ear at that moment, I would’ve done just that. Still, there was something eerily familiar about her and I knew it would eat me away for the entirety of this interview, especially when I could just barely see her head peaked over the back of the interviewers shoulder.

“One minute.”

Speak of the devil.

My eyes flickered to hers, briefly engaging the both of us in eye contact and I knew it couldn’t have just been a casual encounter like passing on the street. No, we talked, I know we did, but still my mind was drawing a complete blank. I made a mental note to make sure I spoke with her after all of this interview bullshit was over.

The interviewer gave a few questions to start -- most of them being terribly generic and my answers being terribly stale as I was far too exhausted and ill of patience today. I wasn’t trying to be mean, but I could tell I wasn’t giving her the answers she wanted and had to get in order for her to keep her job, so I attempted to perk up and engage her in some light and casual conversation.

“Where’s the juicy questions?”

“Juicy questions?”. The interviewer cocked her eyebrow as she gazed at me before flickering her eyes back down to the note cards in her hands.

“You know like who I lost my virginity to or-”

“Is that what you want me to ask you?”

I shrugged my shoulders before I leaned in a little bit closer to her and whispered, “This isn’t live right?” She shook her head, absolutely knowing where i was taking this conversation.

“Then let’s have some fun with the questions then, yeah?” She nodded, both of us exchanging friendly smiles that made her blush as she tucked the note cards into the pocket of her dress.

“Let’s get to it then. Tell me about when you lost your virginity.”

I knew my team was mentally panicking right now as I heard some absurdly loud and fast typing that was going on behind me, but I didn’t care. I was so tired of the same old questions in every same old interview and my virginity story wasn’t one that I was ashamed of nor regretting of.

“Well, her name was Y/N.” The Interviewer nodded as she waited and listened intently, letting me know that I could go on.

“We were both seniors in high school at the time and it was the night of our senior prom. It was really special actually, not like some other peoples virginity stories, you know? I genuinely liked her a lot.”

As I began to verbally elaborate on the exact night, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander and completely absorb me into that night.

We were both freshly 18 and so nervous as we laid on my bed that i’d happily snuck her into while my brother kept a helpful eye on making sure my parents or sister never saw me escort a girl into my room during the severely late evening hours. I remember the necklace around her neck -- some sort of locket that hung on a gold chain, perfectly dipping in between her cleavage, I found it so incredibly arousing as I let my finger tips brush the shadows her pushed up breasts made against her collarbones and she just simply smiled at me as I explored her, not even sexually, just more silently praising how beautiful I thought she was.

Although we hadn’t been together very long, I felt very strongly for her, I remember that a lot. I wouldn’t have called it love, but I wouldn’t have called it me simply just ‘liking’ her; she meant much more to me than that. While my hands silently explored her chest, all the way down to her ribs, I felt her slightly flinch, making me instantly pull my hands away from her. She reassured me it was just nerves and that she’d never been touched like that before, but it still made me go even slower than I had before as she confirmed to me that she wanted this, and more importantly, that she wanted me in that way.

I don’t think either of us were planning on having sex that night, or at least I wasn’t. Sure, I had thought about it, I was a teenager for crying out loud, sex was merely all that I thought about at that age, but I had never wanted to pressure her into it and secretly I was nervous as well. Everyone always said losing your virginity was a big deal and I wanted to make this special for her and for I, but I also could’t wait to have her, not when she was practically asking me to touch her so intimately.

Every time I’d move my hands over a body part that was seen as risky, I looked at her and every time she would nod, reassuring me that she wanted it and that it was pleasing to her, all the while her hands fixed themselves on the side of my head as she gazed at me sweetly. When it finally came for both of our clothes to be completely discarded, I was timid, mainly because of how visibly turned on I was, but who wasn’t when seeing a naked women, or person of attraction, for the first time in the flesh and right before your eyes. She didn’t seem to mind though as she lovingly traced the dips on my biceps as I hovered above her, in between her legs.

For the most part, we were both pretty quiet the entire time. I’m assuming that was due to the nerves we were both feeling and because we were concentrating hard on another and relishing this moment, after all it was something you don’t really forget about and are always reliving in your mind. Most cringe, some winch, even fewer smile when thinking back to losing their virginity which can either be from the experience in general, the person who they chose to do the act with, or a good combination of both, but I was determined to not let that be me. Regardless of my age and my lack of experience and maturity, I knew she was the right person that I wanted to spend this moment with. No, we weren’t in love, but that didn’t make this any less right feeling for me-i just hoped she felt the same as I did.

“What made you so sure you weren’t in love?” The interviewer broke me from my reminiscing as I flickered my eyes to her while I thought about the question.

I didn’t say anything, merely teetered my head from the left to the right as I nibbled on my lip, concentrating hard.

“Difficult question?”

“A bit, yeah”, I admitted as I enclosed my hands around each other and set them in my lap. “I guess--I guess i’m not sure. I wasn’t thinking about marrying her or anything, but I would’ve taken a bullet for her, gladly...” I shrugged my shoulders, keeping my eyes fixated on the ground, “...but we were both so young, are you even capable of feeling love like that when you’re that young? You haven’t even experienced real life yet?”

I was more so asking myself that question aloud, which is why I assumed the interviewer didn’t answer me, just sat and watched me as I mentally fought with myself over this relationship I had had when I was a young guy.

“I guess..I don’t know.”

“If you’d take a bullet for someone, that sure sounds like love to me. Just my opinion though.” I listened intently and held her eye contact for much too long as my mind began to wander again as I confused myself even further with what I truly felt for her. I wonder what would happen should I see her again - I’m sure she’s gorgeous, she was when we were younger so i’m positive she would be ten times hotter by now. Definitely would be married, no way could she have survived looking and acting like an a actual angel and not be taken by a man..or woman...or whomever held the key to her affection.

“Tell me about her. I’m curious to know your point of view of her.”

I thought back about how patient and caring she was; an exceptional listener and an even better advice giver. Again, I dove deep into my thoughts, recanting that evening again as I remembered her tender touches along my arms, over to my chest, and down to my stomach.

Carefully, she let her hand graze against my hardened cock, making me flinch in the slightest fashion as her eyes quickly flickered up to me. I told her it just felt really good, nearly whined for her to continue on with her actions, but I never wanted to pressure her or force her into anything. However, she read my mind. Her entire palm wrapped around my member, giving it a slightly and slow squeeze as I rolled my eyes to the back of my head. My breath was so heavy and so was hers as she began palming me; I assumed she had no idea how to give a hand job and I wasn’t in any mood to show her exactly how to, I just wanted her to do what felt right to her and her actions were enough for me right now.

My hips naturally pushed themselves into her hand as her eyes watched my face for my reactions; she seemed very confident already as she moved her hands down to cup my balls, rolling them around in her hand, making me let out a soft and audible moan. I heard her giggle, making me open my eyes which i’m sure were shot with arousal as I joined her in matching smiles.

“Does that feel good?” All I could do was nod as she attempted to keep up her movements before I forced her hand away as I could feel myself already about to cum.

“Is something wrong?”

“No! No, not at all. I just..” She could sense my embarrassment as I felt her hand brush up and down my back in a loving manor, immediately making me stop babbling on.

“Are you close?” I nodded, biting my lip as I rested my forehead against hers.; i’m sure she could feel the heat from my cheeks.

She smiled, almost devilishly -- i’d never seen this almost vixen like look to her, but I was quite enjoying it as she wrapped her legs around my waist, pushing my cock against her bare folds. We both exhaled, not realizing this position would bring on this sort of contact, quickly she loosened her legs around me, allowing me to back up just a bit.

“Do you-you know-do you have a condom or anything?” I asked with hesitance. I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t expecting this to happen and I was severely regretting not keeping that condom my brother gave me, in hopes that i’d save it for ‘my big day’ as he put it.

“I’m on birth control. My mom made me go on it when we started dating.”

I nodded and gulped, my nervous eyes dragging down from her eyes to her lips and then to her neck as I slowly moved closer to her collarbones. Although we hadn’t had any sexual contact prior to this, we had plenty of make out sessions that had started off as innocent kisses, and trailed into nearly dry humping, so I was no stranger to some heavy kissing and petting. Gently, I bit into the skin on her collar, making her wrap her legs around me tightly again as I kissed and blew the cold air onto her flesh.

Her hands instantly went to my hair and the back of my neck as she let out small breathy moans while I continued giving her hickeys that i’m sure she’d have to cover up so her parents wouldn’t see, but in that moment I wasn’t worrying about that. I don’t think she was either as she began grinding her hips upwards, making our most sensitive areas graze and move against one another.

Our bodies moved like this for awhile, just enjoying the friction we were getting, until I could feel my orgasm close behind once again. I pushed my hips down into hers, ensuring that neither of us could move as I pressed my lips to hers for just a moment before we both pulled away, forehead against forehead, and just looked at each other, both thinking this is it. There was no more time to waste and nothing to hold us back now.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” She nodded, fast and quick, with a gentle and beautiful smile on her face as I too nodded and reached down to grab my shaft in one of my hands.

“Please tell me if you want to stop okay? I don’t want to hurt-” She pressed one of her fingers to my lips, shushing me. I pulled my tongue out between my lips and licked her finger in response, making her giggle.

She nodded her head at me, silently egging me to ‘go on’ as I slowly pushed my tip inside of her. I could’ve came right then and there purely from the tightness of her, but I held onto every last bit of strength I had so I wouldn’t. She was quiet and nervous I could tell as I whispered a soft “Relax babe”, into her ear. A nervous, but genuine smile graced her lips as I kissed her while moving a little bit more inside of her.

“You okay?”, I mumbled against her lips as she let out a small, but noticeable noise.

She nodded, moving her hips up to push more of my cock inside of her, making us both inhale sharply as I was now fully inside of her.

“Still okay?”

She nodded, “I want more.”

I nearly growled as I latched my mouth back onto hers as I began to slowly move my hips, causing me to move out and then back inside of her.

Our movements were slow and I didn’t last very long, neither did she. It was so innocent and probably god awful, in terms of skill, but it was so good right in that very moment -- I wouldn’t have traded it for the world, especially not with whom I got to spend it with.

Afterwards we were both so exhausted we instantly collapsed on my bed, piled in a mess of our limbs and sweat as we cuddled on my twin bed that was much too small for the both of us.

“Was I any good?” I asked with minimal confidence.

“I don’t really have much to compare it to, but i’d say that was pretty fucking good”, she giggled and giggled some more as my hands moved to her stomach as I began to tickle her.

It was my turn to press my finger to her lips, shushing her, “My parents are going to hear you.”

“I can still remember her laugh...it was so high pitched, but not annoying. I don’t know, it seemed to really suit her and it was one of my favorite sounds in the world back then.”

“Would you recognize it now if you heard it?” I watched as the interviewer attempted to hide a giant smile from her lips, making me look at her quizzically just before she turned her head, ever so slightly, over her shoulder.

I followed her gaze, looking at what was behind her: cameras, camera men, lights, and the woman from earlier. I watched as the woman nervously fiddled with the cuticles on her thumb nail, her leg was bouncing a hundred miles and hour as her foot joined in bopping along. Then my eyes trailed up her bare legs, admiring them, I wasn’t going to lie about that, all the way up to her face.

There was something there. A reminder of something, of anything...and then it hit me.

Although her eyes were covered by clear framed glasses and the glare of the light wasn’t helping either, I could see that glimmer; i knew that glimmer. It was her, I was positive now as I compared the mental image in my head to the real life, now grown women in front of me. Nervously, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear--I remember when I used to do that for her.

“I’ll take that as a yes..or maybe no?”

I flickered my eyes back to the interviewer, but only a moment later and my gaze was back on her. I was in too much disbelief to have my attention be anywhere, but on her.

“Yes. I would know it if I heard it.” My eyes were still glued to hers as she nervously diverted her eyes to her phone, attempting to clear her body of the nervous energy, much like the one we felt that night of our prom.

“What would you do if you saw her today?”

I thought about it, truly thought what I would do and what I would say.

“I think i’d ask her to dinner. I’d love to see what she’s been doing since I last saw her.” I spoke the last part giving her my undivided eye contact as the interviewer announced that that was all the questions she had for me.

Suddenly, I wasn’t in my own little world anymore. Everyone began moving in the room, finding their places, jumping back into their jobs, and I was having difficulty bringing myself back to reality. I had just enveloped my mind in the girl, who was now a beautiful woman, who had stolen my heart in high school and now I had to jump back into my single lifestyle of living the Hollywood dream.

“Thanks Rami”, the interviewer smiled at me as if she had some little secret as she stood up from her chair and walked out of the room, chatting away on her phone. This gave me a perfectly clear view of her now. She still sat in the chair, much like I too was still in the spot i’d been in for the better part of an hour and we just looked at each other.

I smiled at her first, she returned it instantly as she bit her lip.

“So”, I started, getting myself up from the chair and walking over to her sitting form, “Can I take you out to dinner sometime?”

I watched as her hand gravitated towards her neck. Her small fingers began toying with the gold chain around her neck as I saw the familiar locket strung on the coiled material while her eyes glanced up towards me.

“I’d like that a lot.”

#Rami malek #Rami Malek x reader #Rami malek fic #ramimalek #rami malek fan fiction #borhap #the pacific #busters mal heart #mr robot

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nikvs-blog · 5 years

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pov rp: i try to wink at u but i close both eyes like jinsoul in this gif <3 SBJDWBDJWBDJ hello im xan im 22 & from the est timezone i use she / her pronouns & ur watching disney channel. is this super late ? yea...but thats super on brand for me its fine its fun its sexy so * jugkook vc* let’s get it !

— jung jinsoul. she/her. cis female. | was that niko seo i just saw in the hideaway lobby ? i hear the twenty-two year old spends most of their time working as a waitress, but i’ve always just seen them scribbling poetry on napkins. they live in 3A and i often see them in the halls. they always give me a vibe of making wishes on falling stars, silk ribbons adorning messy ponytails, and breakfast at midnight.

BACKSTORY

so miss niko was born in a teeny tiny suburban town in north carolina to a pair of young high school sweethearts ! unfortunately her mom passed away during childbirth so it was a very bittersweet arrival into the world for baby niko

her dad was a mechanic who never made it to college since his girlfriend got pregnant towards the end of their senior year. they got married before niko was born though because they were pretty serious abt raising her right but they never really got the chance to /: but her dad loved his job he loved working with cars & it was something his own dad did before him plus it was a job the town really valued since it was so tiny ( u really only needed one of everything )

when i say tiny i mean everyone knows everyone tiny. growing up the town kinda pitied niko bc of her mom dying so to compensate everyone kinda tried to do their part in raising her ! her neighbors were just as much of a parent to her as her own dad was, and everyone had stories abt her mom so niko kinda appreciated how small the town was.....sometimes

that changed as she got older ! when she started high school her dad kinda entered a rough patch & started drinking more with his buddies, started working less, and niko started getting calls from the sheriff at 2 am like “hey we’re gonna keep ur dad for the night he didnt do anything crazy but he got a little too drunk u can pick him up tomorrow” sort of thing

she was there for him every time but it got kinda overwhelming knowing everyone was in her family's business & how much kids would gossip at school or adults would give her sad looks

basically she kinda just....became very disillusioned with her reality & began to realize no one around her was really.....happy or had big dreams and their entire lives revolved around this tiny town which scared her

but also ? it had started becoming her life, too. she was voted prom queen senior year, she had a job at a diner where the same people ate everyday, she’d been dating the same boy for four years and everyone talked about how they’d probably get married soon. she’d become exactly like everyone else without even realizing it....she didnt have some big dream.....she didnt even have plans for college she was just so stuck

and then disaster hit the summer after she graduated high school. her dad had crashed right into a tree on a rainy night trying to drive home after a night out drinking & died on impact. the news honestly didnt feel real to her until her grandparents were helping her clear out her house so she could come move in with them

which is when she finds her mom’s old diary ! and boy was that thing . fat & juicy ... it had all four years worth of her mom’s high school years inside and niko became ...obsessed with it. all she did that summer her dad died was read her mom’s old diary learning more abt the woman from those pages than she ever had from the mouths of everyone in her town

thats how she found out her mom had always dreamed of moving to some city like seattle and starting this new life once she found out she was pregnant with niko ! so niko was like ok this has to be a sign....told her grandparents she loved them but she couldnt stay in north carolina.....and boop ! she pretty much disappeared from the town, didnt tie up any lose ends ( including her bf of four years who she was kinda engaged to ? JSDBJBDJ ) because she just had to leave that bad.

cue a scene on bus with niko looking out the window as some dramatic song abt new beginnings plays . JSDBJSBDJW seattle was truly her new start at 18 ... and all she wanted to do was just ... reinvent herself

so she did ! first thing she did was get a job as a waitress bc uh ur girl was BROKE broke but she knew she was good at serving. the first year was.....pretty rough there’s no sugar coating it niko was struggling bad, probably living in some questionable apartment when she wasnt coach hopping at her coworker’s places. despite all this she was....insanely happy she really believed ( and still does ) seattle is magic !

she was working at a diner ironically, just like she had been back home, but this diner changed her life about a two years ago. one day one of her regulars ( a very well off lawyer who worked downtown ) told her she was way too pretty and charming to be serving at a place like this & that he had a buddy who owned an upscale restaurant near his job downtown & that he could probably get niko a job there if she wanted

so she was like UH hell yes....showed up the next day at this fancy restaurant, charmed the pants off the owner, and the rest ? is history ! she moved into hideaways a bit after getting this new job & has been there ever since <3

PERSONALITY + TIDBITS

personality wise niko is kinda ....hard to figure out. she doesnt do it on purpose, she’s just still learning about who she is and what she really wants. back home in north carolina she was kind of the small town golden girl, loved by everyone type of deal but also very romanticized by those around her ??? ppl thought she was brilliant and knew so much about everything when the truth was she just knew a little about a lot. she would read to escape the suburban boredom of her reality & took a special interest in things like art and poetry and astronomy. shes the type to want to share the stuff she’s learned with those around her

in seattle since no one knew her the way they did back home, niko decided she wanted to keep it that way. because of this and because shes so hesitant to talk about her family sometimes she can come across as mysterious but she’s a surprisingly open person !! she’s naturally super curious and friendly and she’s found it really helps to be the kind of person people want to get to know and trust when working in the service industry. she’s got the type of aura about her that makes you feel as if maybe you’ve known her forever, even if she’s only told you one thing about herself ( which is often the case) . can probably make anyone feel at home within five minutes of talking to her & you won’t even realize how she’s doing it. her boss swears she’s charming enough to sell honey to a bee !

she’s also got a flighty side though that comes out when you get too close. niko’s great at relationships when they aren’t deep, but the moment you start and figure her out and see past the smiley walls she’s got up she recoils fast. in a way she’s terrified of anyone knowing too much about her because she’s scared that once they do they’ll pity her, and niko can’t stand being pitied. she’s also super good at dishing out affection but not so good at receiving it. the type to fall in love then right back out of love in one day. kinda a heart breaker bc of this but she doesn't mean to be, she just gets infatuated kinda easily & isn’t very good at keeping things serious ever since literally running away from her long-time ex in north carolina JSBCSJBDJW

some fun facts: she wants to get a cat and name it cat so bad but she’s not sure she’d be a good pet mom so she just settles for petting stray cats in public. 100% that weirdo crouching in the street making kissy noises because she saw a cat and wants to pet it. she can name just about every constellation & loves to sit outside and look at the stars on clear nights, usually while smoking a joint . she’s a hardcore lightweight .... im talking one tequila shot and she’s floored ... two glasses of wine and she’s taking her top off then crying kinda deal like she CANNOT handle her liquor so she tries to keep partying to a minimum. she’s got a collection of napkins from work were people have scribbled their phone numbers onto as well as a collection of napkins niko herself has scribbled on. she mostly writes poems and sometimes she even leaves a napkin with a poem on it behind at a table like a little gift for whoever sits there next. she’s probably always writing poems for all her friends or infatuations so if you’re in her life....you’ve gotten one at some point !

the only thing she brought with her from north carolina were all her records. she’s got a pretty extensive collection that ranges from donna summer to louis armstrong to led zeppelin & when she finally got a record player of her own in seattle it was probably the best day of her life <3 she really likes to watch scary movies but also they scare her so bad so it’s a cycle of oh yes lets watch this.....fuck why did i do that.....im sleeping with the lights on rinse & repeat. she really likes to cook ! she learned at a pretty early age out of necessity but now she does it for her own pleasure also because of her growing interest / knowledge in the restaurant industry. her wardrobe is 95% thrifted and 5% stolen from miscellaneous people ( her dad, old boyfriends, hookups, friends, etc. ) is a notorious hoodie thief so dont lend her yours......

and this is WAY too long im.....so sorry this literally always happens aha <3 yes i ramble but thats bc . i have a lot to say and i also have a lot of love to give ! spare some plots ? we can im on tumblr but i am 100% easier to reach on discord @ EL i love u 💖✨🌙#8172 so hit me up there & lets get this show on the road baby !

#╰ ♡ . 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒃 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒔𝒔 ── ooc !#lets not talk abt how long or late this is .... x #JDSBJBDJWBJDW i got carried away perhaps didnt even wanna start adding wanted connections this is already so much 2 read </3 #niko is.....my baby im so excited for her and so excited for this rp so plot with me perhaps ? hehe...#hide.intro

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levi-inthesun · 5 years

Text

Awakening- Chapter 1

Summary: June (Juniper) works at the New York Public Library where she reads to kids once a week, otherwise she’s shelving books, checking out books for patrons, and catching the eye of one Steve Rogers.

Authors note: this started out as a different story, but I didn’t like where it was going so I re-worked it and it became this! I wrote this probably a year ago- so I’m dusting it off, editing and finally posting so all of tumblr can read :)

You were already running late to your shift at the New York Public Library. Cursing to yourself quietly when the subway left without you. You had had a feeling you should have left earlier that day, but having anxiety about missing things like the train were rather normal.

You mumbled under your breath, annoyed. Accepting your fate, you took in a few deep breaths and shot a text message to your boss letting them know you’d be late. Your anxiety threatening to take over so you practiced a few tools you have learned in your years of therapy.

One, is this in my control? No.

Two, is there anything in my power I can do to change this? Besides texting my boss no, it will be quicker to catch the next train than to take a taxi.

Three, what are my choices? I can freak out and probably start sobbing in this very public place, or I can accept that what has happened has happened and do my best to let go.

For the remainder of the time you were in the station, you focused on your breathing and scrolled through social media to distract you. Every so often feeling the smooth beads on the long necklace you wore every day.

Finally, the train arrived and you weren’t as late to work as you thought. You put your bag in your locker and stood in front of the mirror for a moment, adjusting your appearance. You had rushed out the door and your cat head-printed button-down was only partially tucked into your denim skirt. You tucked the necklace under your shirt and fixed your collar. Then you tucked flyaways into your braided crown until you were pleased. Scooting up your glasses from where they had fallen down to, you looked around the corner to the wall clock and checked the time.

“Damn!” you swore to yourself, it was 10:30 and you only had fifteen minutes until you were to read to a group of kids. You walked out to the floor and began shelving books. This month you were reading The Little Prince, one of your personal favorites, memorialized forever on your body as a small tattoo on your upper arm You also had a collection of wildflowers, branches, trees, and ferns on your arms, a small eye on the back of your neck.

You gracefully put books back in their proper place, taking your time to gently feel the spine of each and look over the title. You loved shelving books even though most of your coworkers hated it. You felt closer to the books in the short intimate time you spent putting them away.

You began the reading like you always did, giving a quick summary of the book in a way that would get the kids into it to help quiet the chatter, and review what was read last week. As you read, they listened quietly, drawn in to the little boy in the middle of a vast desert.

“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” You read the line slowly and gently touched the spot on your arm where the words were permanently at home.

Turning the next page, you glanced at the children around you and the array of parents and passerbyers stopping to listen, intrigued with the words the Little Prince had just spoken. You caught the eyes of a tall, handsome man with the softest light blue eyes you’d ever seen.

As you continued reading, you felt as if you were reading to the man with the blue eyes, your voice naturally flowing directly to him.

The first chapter ended and you thanked everyone for coming, who then, in unison, thanked you for reading to them (including the man in the back). You encouraged everyone to come next week to find out more of the adventures the Little Prince had gone on and who he meets.

Kids went to their parents or chatted with friends they had made there while you stood up, smoothing down your skirt and taking the book behind the front desk where the read-aloud books were kept.

You saw the man glance your way again from the corner of your eye, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at his phone, seemingly frustrated.

You walked over to the man, getting his attention. “Excuse me, can I help you find anything?” you asked him with a polite smile.

“Uh yes!” he said quickly, “I’m looking for A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I don’t come to libraries enough to fully understand how to find everything,” he said sheepishly.

“That’s okay,” you said cheerfully, “there is always time to learn.” The man smiled widely at your comment.

As you walked over to the correct section, you glanced over at the man and instantly realized why he looked familiar. Instead of fangirling, which part of you desperately wanted to do, you took in a deep breath and remained professional. You were used to celebrities and other well known people coming in.

You handed him the book and asked if there was anything else you could help him find.

“Actually yes… that book you were reading? Unfortunately, I won’t make it next week, but I am completely intrigued, even if it’s just a children's book.”

You looked at him, feigning shock. “Only a children’s book? Sir!” you said placing a hand dramatically over your chest, “This book is not just a children’s book! I didn’t read it until after I got through college and it changed my damn life. So I will now ask you to take that back!” You exclaimed, tone playful.

“I take it back!” he responded laughing, hands up in truce. “I know we just met, but I was hoping maybe you can tell me more about it… over coffee?” he was smiling widely as he asked and you felt a spark ignited within you that had been gone far too long.

Instead of answering, you led him to the check out station, smiling at the ground trying to hide your blush. While you were checking his books out, he looked away nervously, so he didn’t notice you scribble something on the receipt, then stick in just inside the cover for The Little Prince.

You spent the rest of your shift very, very distracted at the thought of going out for coffee with Steve Rogers.

When Steve got home later that evening, he was still thinking about you. How cute you looked in your button up that he could have sworn had little cat heads all over it and your denim skirt. How into reading the book you were, your trance only broken when you spotted him, even still you quickly got back into it. Steve felt like he may be going crazy, but it felt as if you were just reading to him. Your melodic voice carried over the group of kids and straight into his heart. Remembering the books he had stowed in his bag, he pulled them out setting A Tree Grows in Brooklyn down on the counter and picking up The Little Prince. He opened it up to see your messy cursive on the receipt with a phone number.

Call me when you finish :) - June

Then, for the first time in this century (probably), Steve Rogers did a happy dance as his heart was ignited with hope. After he regained control of himself, he immediately dove into the book reading until early morning when he reluctantly put it down to get at least a few hours of sleep, where he dreamt of a boy and his rose, a pilot and a fox.

Steve woke to the sound of a very unwelcome alarm, he shut it off and slowly sat up, looking out the large windows of his room in the Avengers Compound, watching as the sun rose in the sky, spilling hues of orange, pink and purple over the sky. He got dressed and left for his daily run, making it back in record time just so he could read the rest of the book.

You were shocked when you got a phone call later that day, the voice saying they finished the book and was wondering when you would be free to meet up for coffee.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “I’m free now.”

The voice answered much too quickly, making you feel a little less embarrassed. “Yes! Do you have a favorite spot to get coffee?” “Believe it or not, it’s right by the library. Meet me there in an hour and a half?” “Can’t wait, doll.”

As soon as you hung up, you looked down at your outfit of choice on this lazy day off. Sweatpants and a shirt with actual, non-ironic holes throughout. You booked it to your closet and allowed yourself 10 minutes to stress out about what the hell you were going to wear to your date with Steve freaking Rogers, finally settling on a pair of your favorite high waisted jeans and a loose tank top tucked in with a pair of sandals. You added a pair of stud earrings and put your hair into a low bun, that way if he was dressed up, you wouldn’t be too casual, and vice versa.

You had time to spare, but figured it wouldn’t hurt to be early. You popped your earbuds in and started listening to your Beatles playlist, making your way to the Subway Station. The ride went smoothly and thankfully no one bothered you. Once you got to the library, you sat on the steps by one of the lion statues and basked in the early fall sunshine, only closing your eyes for a second, soaking it all in when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Readying yourself to politely tell some rando to leave you alone, you were surprised to see Steve, 10 minutes early. “Hi!” you yelled, cringing when you realized your volume. You quickly turned off your music and stuffed your phone and headphones into your bag.

“You know, you are gonna lose your hearing if you listen to music that loud,” he said chuckling. You rolled your eyes playfully. “By the way, Ob-la-di is a good choice.” he smiled, and you thought that that is something you could easily get used to.

Then his face altered, annoyed as he looked past you. It looked like he was trying to make someone go away with a nod of his head. You looked up at him confused.

“Ah, sorry. My friends,” he said pointing to the group of extremely familiar-looking men and women, “they didn’t believe me when I said I was going on a date.” He shrugged.

You giggled and gave the group a flirty finger wave. They waved back before running off. “Well, shall we go ingest liquid gold sustenance?” you asked.

“Yes, lead the way,” he replied as he held out his arm for you. You tried to hold in the smile and blush that suddenly appeared on your face, but there was no fighting it.

Just a few blocks away, Steve opened the door to the cafe and followed you inside.

“Hi Maria,” you said fondly as you approached the counter.

“Juni!” she called back happily as she took her position behind the register, “I thought you had the day off today?” she asked as she already started putting your order in.

“I do,” you said with an almost dreamy sigh, “I’m here for fun,” you said, motioning to the tall man with you. “Oh, yes you are.” She stated, winking at you, “And what can I get for you?”

You tried not to giggle when he ordered an americano.

You found some seats in the corner, grateful that the cafe was normally pretty empty around 4. Once settled, Steve pulled out the copy of The Little Prince he had borrowed from the library, as well as a notebook filled with notes. You smiled and pulled out your well worn, well-loved, very marked personal copy. Maria brought your coffees over and winked again, mouthing ‘hot damn!’ to you before Steve could notice.

Another round of pink heat spread over your cheeks.

“So, I just realized we never actually introduced ourselves.” You said, knowing full well you both knew you knew his name.

“How rude of me,” he said with a playful tone, “I’m Steve.” “Good to meet you, Steve,” you say as you both shake hands once and let go, “Most people call me June, but my name is Juniper.”

“Juniper… that’s really cool. Would you mind if that is what I call you?” he asked, eyebrows raised in questioning.

You smiled, “Most people think it’s too weird or hippy-ish, which isn’t too far off. So yes, I would love that actually.”

“What do you mean it isn’t too far off? And why is there anything wrong with being too hippy-ish?” he asked, confused.

“Well, I grew up on the west coast. My parents were very much minimalists. We had a garden full of fruits, veggies, and herbs. We spent so much time out there together. I actually loved gardening and had a booth at our local farmers market and preferred spending time with my parents and my dog, and a lot of my friends stopped inviting me out, deeming I was ‘odd’ and a ‘straight-up hippy’,” you rolled your eyes and chuckled at how silly the whole thing was. “Anyways, there is nothing wrong with being too much of a hippy,” you said smiling, “I learned how to embrace it,” you shrugged.

Steve smiled at you and took a sip of his drink before responding, “Sounds like you didn’t have very good friends,” he commented sadly.

“Learned that one much too late,” you say as you take a drink yourself. “What about your parents, friends growing up?”

“Well, my best friend growing up was James- we all called him Bucky, except his mom when she was angry with him for doing something stupid-” he paused for a second before adding, “it was usually my ideas that got us into trouble.” He shook his head as a memory replied in his mind. “But my mom was my entire world. When she died, it felt like a piece of me died with her…”

“I’m so sorry,” you replied. Steve searched your face, but only found a genuine warmth and caring.

“Thanks, uh, yeah so then Bucky’s mom basically adopted me and we got into even more trouble… we definitely gave her a run for her money.”

You chuckled at the idea of him running around causing trouble.

After you both took another drink, you dove right into the book, pointing out favorite parts, what was personally identified with, as well as some questions Steve had had. One of your favorite parts was hearing about his relationships. “So the fox… honestly, it sounds very much like Bucky. I already mentioned how close we were, but eventually, our paths took us separate ways before reuniting, and... well he was extremely different. He had gone through some really terrible things, things I cannot even begin to imagine, when we were finally together again, it took a lot of work on both of our parts… like he was reluctant to be tamed, he didn’t want to get hurt again. It took a while, but now we are even stronger than we were before. It’s like we are tamed to each other, haha.” Steve realized he was getting more personal than he had anticipated and felt a little awkward.

“That is beautiful,” you said quietly, causing a little smile to appear on Steve’s lips.

His favorite part was just watching your eyes light up anytime one of the things he brought up was something you loved about the book as well. You were so passionate about this one children’s book and it was like it opened up a whole new place in his heart.

Hours later, your coffees were cold and barely touched, but there you sat, his hand gently resting on yours from across the table. The conversation had led to other favorite books, which you both had given each other quite the list to look into. Then you both talked about the things that made you happy.

You adored the days it rained. You felt like it was washing the city and yourself clean and the way people’s faces light up when they talk about something they’re passionate about. Steve loved the peace that watching the sunset over the city brought him, everything quiet and still. He also loved watching people as they read or watch movies, “You can see anything you need to know about a person,” he had said.

Eventually, Maria came up to let you know they were closing. You blushed slightly and apologized to your friend, who hushed your fears.

“Do you own any of the books on your list?” Steve asked, hurriedly as you walked down the street, “I would be honored to be able to read your personal copy of even just one, get a look inside your head a little more,” Steve said, a light blush threatening to take over.

You smiled widely, “In fact, I own all of the books on my list. I live in Brooklyn though, so if it is out of the way I can always bring a few next time I see you?”

There were two things about your statement that excited Steve beyond belief. 1. You lived in Brooklyn. 2. You wanted to see him again.

“I happen to love Brooklyn, it’s no problem at all unless you would be more comfortable oth-” You cut him off. “Honestly, I would love for you to come over and be impressed at my massive book collection.”

It was settled and Steve held out his arm for you again as you both chatted aimlessly as you walked to the subway station. It was late on a Saturday, so the train was noisy with talking from people going to or from parties and clubs. You pulled out your earbuds and handed him one as you plug them into your phone, putting the other in your own ear. You clicked on another one of your favorite playlists, hitting shuffle. The first song was a favorite by Noah and the Whale, The First Days of Spring. As the 45-minute train ride continued, you could feel your hand take a life of its own as it inched closer to Steve’s, which rested on the seat next to yours. The anticipation of holding his hand was practically killing you, so when Steve closed the distance you felt relief, as well as a pleasant tingle, wash over you.

Once you worked up the confidence, you rested your head on his shoulder… more like arm with his height compared to yours, but it was nice all the same, and Steve melted towards you.

Once your stop came you stood up and pulled Steve along until you were walking side by side. Music was stopped and put away, you both walked in a comfortable silence to your apartment building hand in hand.

You watched as Steve looked around with an almost sadness as you walked the streets of Brooklyn. Of course, you knew of his history, everyone did, but you would wait until he was ready to bring it up. Just because you knew what books told you about what happened didn’t mean it was the whole story, or that you had a right to know.

Suddenly Steve stopped in front of a building that was crumbling to the ground.

Steve couldn’t believe it was still here. The last time he had the opportunity to be in Brooklyn inconspicuously he hadn’t been able to find it. Yet, now, on his way to the apartment of one of the most beautiful, witty, honest and intelligent women he’d met since Peggy, was his childhood home. Where he spent his entire life sick, trying to stand up for himself but always being saved by Bucky. And suddenly, he was that tiny person again and felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude as well as the feeling of being undeserving to have you holding his hand. A tear slipped through and he prayed you wouldn’t notice. Instead, he felt your kindness through a simple hand squeeze. He took a few deep breaths and decided it was time to keep moving.

You continued leading him to your apartment and unlocked it. Before you opened the door you smiled at him mischievously.

“Now, I have spent a long time working on my book collection. If for some reason it isn’t impressive, you have to pretend it is otherwise whatever this,” you motioned between the two you, “could have been, isn’t happening.” Steve nodded in agreement, “You got it doll.”

You blushed slightly, biting your lip as you turned around and opened the door, letting him in.

What Steve then saw was incredible. You had hundreds of what seemed to be carefully selected books, shelved neatly throughout your entire, albeit small, apartment. You watched as Steve walked around, mouth hanging wide open, staring at the shelves on shelves and shelves of books. He then turned to you, mouth still open, and held out his arms motioning to it all with wide eyes.

“Okay, okay, you didn’t have to try so hard to make me feel like you were impressed, it’s okay. Appreciated though.” You smiled genuinely, even though you were trying to tease.

“Oh, well okay then.” Steve playfully rolled his eyes before grinning at you.

You both stood there looking at each other for what felt like a few beats too long, so you blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I like ice cream. Do you want some?” Before waiting for him to respond you walked over to the freezer to pull out the tubs of ice cream you had and two spoons. “Uh yeah, I could go for some ice cream.” Steve walked over, noticing there weren’t any bowls.

Seeing his confusion, you explained, “It is more fun to eat it out of the container unless you’re afraid of germs or whatever,” you shrugged, hoping he didn’t think it was weird.

“Sounds good to me.” He replied, grabbing a spoon and the pint of mint chocolate chip. You grabbed the other, moose tracks and headed for the couch.

You sat together on the couch eating ice cream and reading. Steve, the second one on your list of favorites (since The Little Prince was number one), and you one of his that you happened to have.

Periodically, Steve would look up from the book and watch as you were sucked in by the words. He could see every little reaction you had, every vulnerable moment when what the book was saying rang true for you.

He sighed as he turned back to the book in his hands- This is something he certainly could get used to.

#Steve Rogers x OC #Steve Rogers Fanfiction #Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers Fanfic #Avengers Fanfiction #Awakening #Fluff

4 notes · View notes

meepface · 6 years

Note

1-100!

oof, thank you lmfao

1: is there a boy/girl in your life?

there’s a boy in my life which is crazy to me bc i was starting to think i could only feel this way about girls. i am bi though, that is very much so confirmed

2: think of the last person who hurt you; do you forgive them?

i can think of two people right now honestly and i forgive them both. i learned from them and i grew from those experiences and i hope they do as well. i wish nothing but the best for them

3: what do you think of when you hear the word “meow?”

my best friend got a new cat and she’s SO SMALL and she likes me a lot and cats don’t usually like me so it’s great

4: what’s something you really want right now?

to hang out with my boy but i’m doing that tonight! also i would really love to go to Iceland

5: are you afraid of falling in love?

oh absolutely terrified, yes, but it’s a growing experience every time and i think it’s always worth it whether they end up being the one or not

6: do you like the beach?

not really at all honestly

7: have you ever slept on a couch with someone else?

yes

8: what’s the background on your cell?

my lock screen is my dog Sophie and my home screen is just some pine trees

9: name the last four beds you were sat on?

my own, my brother’s, my boyfriend’s and my best friend’s

10: do you like your phone?

i honestly wish i didn’t have a phone a lot of times lmao i hate texting people and i hate social media and i hate being subconsciously addicted to it. i’m definitely trying to work on using it less

11: honestly, are things going the way you planned?

not at all but they’re going pretty fucking great so i’m not complaining

12: who was the last person whose phone number you added to your contacts?

a new coworker of mine

13: would you rather have a poodle or a rottweiler?

both i love dogs

14: which hurts the most, physical or emotional pain?

emotional

15: would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum?

both ??

16: are you tired?

a little bit, i just woke up and i definitely wanted to sleep in a little later than 10:30 but my body will not go back to sleep

17: how long have you known your 1st phone contact?

lmaooo since middle school, he was actually my first “boyfriend” if you even count the like 4 days we dated

18: are they a relative?

not at all, just some crusty boy i don’t even talk to anymore. last i heard he moved and is trying to be a monk which is strange considering the person he is

19: would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes?

i would not

20: when did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with?

he texted me this morning but the last time we spoke was like over the phone two days ago. he’s been busy moving and shit and so we haven’t gotten to see each other for a lil bit but i see him today so it’s all good

21: if you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today?

not today, i’d definitely still wait and if they’re the right person i’m sure they’d wait too

22: would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

oh my god absolutely, i’m gonna kiss him so much tonight

23: how many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now?

none, i don’t really care for bracelets

24: is there a certain quote you live by?

there’s a few! “let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier,” “if you have good thoughts it will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely,” and “be kinder and gentler.”

25: what’s on your mind?

i’m kind of hungry and i definitely smell pancakes in the other room but other than that i’m super nervous to hang out with my boyfriend’s friends for the first time today bc i want them to like me lmao

26: do you have any tattoos?

i have three, a sun and moon on my wrists and “lovely” on my inner arm

27: what is your favorite color?

cerulean

28: next time you will kiss someone on the lips?

toniiiiight

29: who are you texting?

my friend Stein, my friend Joe and i was texting my boyfriend but i think he fell back asleep

30: think to the last person you kissed, have you ever kissed them on a couch?

yes lmao all the time

31: have you ever had the feeling something bad was going to happen and you were right?

yes

32: do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to?

yes my good pal Joe and also my friend Brendon and also my friend Cory and also my friend Derryck and also my boyfriend but he’s more than just a friend so i don’t think that counts

33: do you think anyone has feelings for you?

i would hope my boyfriend does

34: has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes?

i get that fairly often actually bc my eyeballs are fucking massive and bright green and it makes me happy when people say that bc i used to hate em

35: say the last person you kissed was kissing someone right in front of you?

i would be really really really disappointed and upset bc he knows how difficult its been for me lately and he knows i’ve been cheated on before and he’s been so fucking good to me so it would be a huge knock down to my ability to trust anyone. i’d honestly just break up with him quickly and as kindly as i could and just not talk to him again. i definitely think it would be harder to trust afterwards and i’d be heartbroken but luckily we wouldn’t have been together long enough for it to fuck me up too bad yet. BUT, he’s literally an angel and i can’t see him ever doing this to me so this is all hypothetical

36: were you single on valentines day?

no i was not

37: are you friends with the last person you kissed?

we’re dating

38: what do your friends call you?

my name

39: has anyone upset you in the last week?

i think my parents at one point but it’s all good, i’ve clearly already forgotten and moved on

40: have you ever cried over a text?

plenty of times

41: where’s your last bruise located?

i have a random ass bruise on my knee and i have no idea what that’s about

42: what is it from?

no clue

43: last time you wanted to be away from somewhere really bad?

oh all the time lately, it’s hard to be at home right now. but i also just want to be out of state for a while

44: who was the last person you were on the phone with?

my best friend called me to tell me how her date went

45: do you have a favourite pair of shoes?

yeah i have these bright white pumas that i loooove they look so cool and they’re so comfy

46: do you wear hats if your having a bad hair day?

yep, i look good in snapbacks and dad hats so it works out

47: would you ever go bald if it was the style?

no i don’t have the face shape to pull that off

48: do you make supper for your family?

i would but i’m so bad at cooking that i don’t think they would want that

49: does your bedroom have a door?

yes

50: top 3 web-pages?

youtube, netflix and then my school’s login page apparently

51: do you know anyone who hates shopping?

my mom does

52: does anything on your body hurt?

my stomach is a little upset but it’s not too terrible

53: are goodbyes hard for you?

depends on who i’m saying goodbye to

54: what was the last beverage you spilled on yourself?

coffee

55: how is your hair?

messy and in a bun bc i just woke up lmao

56: what do you usually do first in the morning?

lay in bed for like an hour and text people back and briefly social media bullshit, then i usually immediately shower once i get up

57: do you think two people can last forever?

i don’t know but i hope so

58: think back to january 2007, were you single?

yes

59: green or purple grapes?

purple but i like em both

60: when’s the next time you will give someone a big hug?

when i see my boyfriend today, he’s been pretty stressed and he definitely needs a hug

61: do you wish you were somewhere else right now?

i’d say with my boyfriend but i’m pretty fuckin comfy in my bed right now so i mean, he can come join me here instead

62: when will be the next time you text someone?

whenever someone texts me back

63: where will you be 5 hours from now?

a music festival

64: what were you doing at 8 this morning.

sleeping

65: this time last year, can you remember who you liked?

yes i was dating her

66: is there one person in your life that can always make you smile?

yes

67: did you kiss or hug anyone today?

not yet but i will

68: what was your last thought before you went to bed last night?

i have no idea, i was probably just nervous about today

69: have you ever tried your hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?

yes

70: how many windows are open on your computer?

just this one

71: how many fingers do you have?

10 lmfao???

72: what is your ringtone?

idk whatever the apple default one is

73: how old will you be in 5 months?

still 21

74: where is your mum right now?

she’s in the kitchen making pancakes which i’m about to go hit up

75: why aren’t you with the person you were first in love with or almost in love?

we just didn’t work out

76: have you held hands with somebody in the past three days?

yes, three days ago though bc we’ve both been busy

77: are you friends with the people you were friends with two years ago?

some of them yes but i cut off a few of em for the better

78: do you remember who you had a crush on in year 7?

definitely my friend Brendon, we didn’t work out bc we were both queer as fuck but he’s still one of my best friends to this day. i also had a huge crush on this girl that i don’t really talk to anymore bc she definitely gives off that whole “i’m better than you” kind of vibe

79: is there anyone you know with the name mike?

yes

80: have you ever fallen asleep in someones arms?

yep & i get to tonight !! my bf is so cuddly when he’s sleepy

81: how many people have you liked in the past three months?

five LMAO but i only tried things out w three of em bc i knew the other two wouldn’t work out. ended up with the one i liked the most to begin with so everything worked out in the longrun

82: has anyone seen you in your underwear in the last 3 days?

my boyfriend lol

83: will you talk to the person you like tonight?

yep a whole bunch i’m so excited

84: you’re drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with?

oof, i don’t think i’d yell at em but i guess my friend Monica, that’s some shit she’d drag me into doing lmfao

85: if your bf/gf was into drugs would you care?

he is to an extent and it doesn’t bother me as long as he’s safe. i barely consider weed a drug anyway

86: what was the most eventful thing that happened last time you went to see a movie?

my bf and i fucked in my car at 3 AM afterwards LMAO

87: who was your last received call from?

my dad

88: if someone gave you $1,000 to burn a butterfly over a candle, would you?

i think i would initially agree bc i need that money but i don’t think i’d have the heart when it came down to it

89: what is something you wish you had more of?

money would be nice bc i’m tryna move out

90: have you ever trusted someone too much?

yes

91: do you sleep with your window open?

nah there’s mosquitos outside

92: do you get along with girls?

yes!!!!! i love girls

93: are you keeping a secret from someone who needs to know the truth?

no, i don’t really see much of a point in doing that

94: does sex mean love?

not necessarily but loveless sex isn’t as good

95: you’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem?

not at all

96: have you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring?

97: did you sleep alone this week?

yeah except for on monday night and i don’t have to sleep alone tonight either so it’s all g

98: everybody has somebody that makes them happy, do you?

yes

99: do you believe in love at first sight?

nah but i believe in infatuation at first sight sure, i believe you can have a feeling about someone at first sight, like you can tell if they’ll be in your life or not kind of thing

100: who was the last person that you pinky promise?

i think my best friend

#thank you for the distraction!#like if ya read #long post #about me

3 notes · View notes

hotelconcierge · 6 years

Text

THE FALSE NEGATIVES

In The Company Of Men (1997) opens in an airport where two middle management guys have just arrived: a bespectacled seborrheic named Howard, and an ex-jock good ol’ boy named...Chad.

Howard walks out of the bathroom. He’s been hit, by a woman, just for asking the time—like, Mountain or Central. “Wait, wait. You're telling me about some sort of unprovoked assault here?” Chad says, “Did she give you the time at least?”

Howard doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even seem to recognize it as a joke. And therein lies the problem, for him and everyone else.

The two men are in town a few weeks to work at a branch office. They exchange complaints. This place blows. The job sucks. Coworkers are vultures. Can’t trust anyone. Howard just got dumped by his fiancée. Chad says he just got dumped too.

CHAD: I'm standing there, no note...not a “thanks for four years of a roof over my bleached-blonde head”...nothing. You know? And it comes to me...the truth. I do not give a shit, not about anybody. A family member, a job, none of it. I couldn't care less.

HOWARD: Geez.

CHAD: Don't get me wrong. We're pals.

HOWARD: Same college.

CHAD: Exactly, and that means something. But these other folks...You know, jump on while the going's good? No, that will not do.

“Circle the date on this one, big guy,” Chad says, “We keep playing along with this 'pick up the check,' 'can't a girl change her mind' crap...and we can't even tell a joke in the workplace? There's going to be hell to pay down the line, no doubt about it.”

They move to the hotel bar.

youtube

CHAD: I don't want to shock you. It's just a thought. It's the same crap we played in school, only better, because we get a payback on this messy relationship shit we're dealing with.

HOWARD: No, right, it's funny, it is. it's just...way out there.

CHAD: I think it would be refreshing, I really do...and very therapeutic coming off the women we just have.

HOWARD: Well, just for instance, who would it be?

CHAD: No idea. But she’s out there, I know it. Just waiting for us to find her.

Let’s start here.

They say guilt is omniscient; that doesn’t mean you can’t throw sand in its eyes. Unlike shame, guilt is universal, at some level everyone knows that violating the NAP makes you a dick. But suppose you like, really want to. How do you get from Crime and Punishment to Crimes and Misdemeanors?

The above scene is demonstrative. First, replace the human object with an idea. Hurting an innocent woman is obviously evil—plus, why would you do that? Women are soft, thoughtful, have nice voices, etc. But hurting “women” in general? “Women,” who smile right past you and say “that’s so funny!” instead of laughing and sing along to vapid breakup songs like they could ever know the pain of a sensitive incel? God knows “they” want to hurt “men.”

Second, remove the subject: you aren’t going to do anything. A passive process, inevitable given the laws of thermodynamics, is going to occur. You remember that one scene in Glengarry Glen Ross? “Somebody should stand up and strike back. Somebody should do something to them.” Deus vult.

But that explanation doesn’t do justice to Chad’s cunning. He alternates between 1) “big guy”-ing Howard re: office politics and romantic troubles, and 2) brutal, frequent, almost compulsive misogyny. These are twin strategies in the same campaign. When Chad says, “some corn-fed bitch who'd mess her pants if you sharpen a pencil for her,” Howard gives a single snort of laughter. I know that one. It’s a social laugh, slave morality coming straight from the spinal cord, brain playing catch-up, “oh, it’s funny because it was a joke.” Like all the nice construction workers asking ladies to smile, Chad wants to be a friend. It would be rude not to laugh at the joke of a friend. But when your ego endorses a perspective your superego rejects, you build up a debt of guilt. The heavier your debt, the more you have to borrow from the abstraction of ideal over real. The more you suspend judgment, the more you have to rely on the judgment of others. The more crimes you share with an accomplice, the deeper you enmesh yourself in conspiracy. So a few hours later and a little drunk:

HOWARD: What'd she say?

CHAD: "I don't trust anything that bleeds for a week and doesn't die."

(Both laugh)

CHAD: So you in?

HOWARD: Aw, shit man...yeah, I’m in.

CHAD: Alright, let’s do it. Let’s hurt somebody.

Somebody shows up the next day.

The object is a deaf woman named Christine. Reads lips, self-conscious about this so wears headphones so coworkers will have to attract her attention. A copy-editor or something, 90 words per minute. Brunette and pale, short hair, slender neck, narrow frame, Améliesexual, Forever 21.

When a male coworker informs Chad of her disability, Chad does an imitation “dolphin voice” and gets a big laugh. Then he goes and introduces himself.

CHAD: You're new here, aren't you? Don't be embarrassed. We're all new sometime, right? (Pause) That's a lovely blouse.

“A, E, I, O, U and sometimes Y is like the Holy Grail to this poor wretch,” Chad tells Howard. Howard, sitting down to urinate, gives an ambiguous response. Chad: “You're not pussing out on this, are you, Howie?”

HOWARD: All I mean is, I think everything's a business, whatever you go into. Your typing there or my opportunity directing this project. Doesn't matter. Every walk of life's an industry...from child care right on up.

HOWARD: So, on a personal level, that's what I'm doing here. I was walking by, saw you, figured, "What the hell," you know? You probably have a boyfriend, but you gotta take your chance, right? And who knows? It might turn out to be mutually advantageous. So, that's really just a long-winded way of saying...I'd like to go out sometime. Maybe get a drink? My name's Howard, by the way. I'm free this weekend.

Act III shows the two Lotharios in parallel. Howard’s dating sim begins with a motorized tour cart ride at the zoo. Howard arrives late, blames this on having to “ream out” some employees, has to define “ream,” clarifies that, no, you don’t have to feel bad for them, like, it was no big deal. Then he backtracks and admits he was lying—none of that happened, he ran back to the hotel to change his shirt. “I get so used to saying what I think people want to hear...I forget they might just want the truth sometimes,” Howard says. “It’s all right,” Christine says, “Just remember: I can't hear you when you're lying.”

Cut to:

CHAD: I have to face this. My job ends here in a few weeks, and...I want you to know that whatever you do is all right with me. I don't care about your dating other guys...and if we're apart for a while or...

CHAD: Well, I just want you to know that, whatever happens, I trust you. Okay? Oh, boy, this is really hard. I like you. There, I said it. It's out. I'll eat better now. It's true. I look at you, and I see...good, nice, kind. I am very happy with you, and I want our relationship—you feel this could be a relationship, right? I want to nurture it and just see us blossom.

Christine then proceeds to eyelash flutter like Chad said he cried listening to Carrie & Lowell. We have the power of camera angles, but even without them—this is so, so, so obviously bullshit, right? Like a Markov chatbot trying to simulate “boyfriend”? But hold up. Under oath: can you point out the lie?

Chad’s branch office job does end in a few weeks. He really does see Christine as good/nice/kind, trusts her, doesn’t care if she dates other guys, wants the relationship to blossom (at least in the short term). Contrast with Howard’s “ream out” anecdote, which, objectively: Fake News, Not An Argument, Myth Busted. And yet if Howard hadn’t confessed the plot would have moved on without a missed beat—to you, the viewer, it rings exaggerated, but not intuitively false.

And you’d be right, because truth cannot be extracted from individual words. Here’s the 2x2 for all y’all Ribbonfarmers: factual-truth = math; factual-lie = lie of omission; counterfactual-truth = metaphor; counterfactual-lie = I’ve got a bridge to sell you. I’m not pulling a po-mo fast one. Objective truth is great, it gave us Youtube and stuff. But words are imprecise no matter how many footnotes: since they compress preverbal desire, they always contain a lie of omission. And metaphors, though annotated with “citation needed, does not actually look like a summer’s day,” sometimes reveal crucial and unspeakable truths about the algorithm that creates them.

Point: lies cannot be proved or disproved by geometry. Counterpoint: still, being lied to is a distinct subjective experience. Example: when a minor fall to major lift makes you spit rage, it’s never because the song is particularly bad, no one actually enjoys math rock but no one gets mad at it either. The anger is instead a response to perceived manipulation. People get mad at rap/country/Bieber because these genres lean heavily on identity; the artist is, from the first guitar twang/phat beat/“baby,” trying to convince you of something about him/her/yourself. “Well, doesn’t everyone do that?” Extremely duh, but note that if you accept the artist’s claim as true or false then the nausea doesn’t occur. You can’t be manipulated if you’ve made up your mind, a sufficiently bad lie stops being one, see also, camp.

That’s the horror of the middle-place: if you just let yourself slide, if you just stopped being you, you would like it. Times Square neon makes me vomit blood but Casablanca is charming despite the same level of weapons-grade ideology. The former might persuade me to drink Suntory, the latter has zero chance of getting me to enter World War II. The propaganda of the past—the art of the past—will always be better than that of the present, not just because of selection bias but because it doesn’t feel manipulative, and it doesn’t feel manipulative because it’s not talking to you.

Ergo: we feel lied to = when we can tell + that we are being told + what we want to hear. And this is why Howard’s anecdote doesn’t feel like a lie: it wasn’t. Sure, the words were bullshit, and maybe he fooled Christine, but what he communicated to you—“I want to be seen as a man despite my multiple and obvious failings”—was 100% genuine.

Why can’t Howard tell a fib? One possibility is that he learned about girls from hentai and Roosh V and so thinks that women are attracted to toughness rather than the conquest of toughness. But more likely is that he doesn’t want to: he’s more interested in having Christine see him a certain way than in giving the Good End answers. So Howard, like you, tries to work Million Dollar Extreme references into his Tinder convos, which makes him a narcissist and a tool but not a liar. Proof of the pudding is that it doesn’t work.

Contra Chad: how come it’s so obvious that he’s lying? But of course: the words weren’t meant for you. Chad has self, not self-image, and so no compunctions about roleplaying to get what he wants. For us, his dialogue falls in an uncanny valley. But if you’re the target audience...

“Did she give you the time at least?” Howard never laughs at Chad’s deadpan because it’s too on the nose, it’s exactly what a friend should say, fact check = TRUE, bleep bloop. Howard social-laughs at Chad’s misogyny because it’s so absurd, he must be joking, fact check = FALSE, bzzzt. Christine makes the same mistake: Chad speaks the language of romance, she agrees to see him as such, and she stops asking questions. They outsource their superego to the etiquette of conversation, and who can blame them, their fantasies are coming true. Only you have the outside view, or so it seems: perfect etiquette masking irony, irony masking anger, anger masking unspeakable sociopathy: that even the anger is fake. But if you see that, then he was talking to you, that was the whole point, to give a winking apology to a fellow conspirator—“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

And therein lies the problem, for you and everyone else.

In The Company of Men does not have a happy ending.

Chad sleeps with Christine. (“God, I am just so taken with you. I just...”) Howard sees them at lunch together and gets worried. He pulls some work levers to get Chad out of town, refurbishes his ex-fiancee’s ring, and invites her to dinner.

HOWARD: Maybe this isn't the perfect time...but I care about you, Christine. I want you to know I like you a lot. I need—I just don't want to lose you.

Christine cuts him off. She’s made a horrible mistake by letting things get this far: she’s in love with Chad.

CHRISTINE: It’s all my fault...You both should have known about this...When you don't date for a while...you wonder...if you're attractive...or interesting to someone. You let things get out of hand first chance you get. That's what I did.

Pause.

HOWARD: We did know.

“Chad? He doesn't like you. He loathes you. He detests you and your pathetic retard voice. That's what he calls it. Christine, you bought that shit?”

Christine freaks out and screams that’s not true, stop it, but Howard keeps going, spilling the beans about the game, apologizing and begging:

HOWARD: Can't you see I'm the good guy? I'm the good person here. I can't alter what we've done, and I'm a fuck...and a bastard and everything else on your list, but I'm here. I'm here, and I'm telling you...I love you.

He brings out the ring.

HOWARD: It's not a game to me anymore. Take it.

Christine doesn’t, and Howard promptly explodes that she’s “fucking handicapped,” “you think you can choose, men falling at your feet?” and so on.

The standard take on this type of (very common) story is that even though [beta male] loved [manic pixie] more than [Chad], the beta male’s complaisance to the patriarchy makes him “just as bad.” Fair enough, consequentialism ftw, but it’s suspicious that the narrator of these tales is often the beta male protagonist himself. No one self-flagellates unless they get off on it, and the above take hides an assumption: that (e.g.) Howard really was in love with Christine.

Was he? There’s no doubt he had some of the relevant chemicals floating around. Yet it’s very possible for abusers to love their victims and cheaters to love their cuckolded spouses. It’s very possible to love each and every other member of the orgy. Hell, I know some meditators who can connect with the astral rhythms of life itself—and they aren’t bullshitting, they really feel it. But drugs are cheap. What does your oxytocin rush mean for anyone besides you?

I’ll tell you why Howard thought that he was in love: he went through the motions. Just as Howard decided that Chad was his friend because that was the role he played, he decided that Christine was marriage material because...she was there. They had nothing in common, they had zero chemistry, but she was there. You gotta serve somebody. “I need—I just don’t want to lose you.” Love as manifest in the material plane requires sacrifice, is sacrifice, of opportunity if nothing else. Howard’s love is meaningless because it costs him nothing. Maybe Uber-Howard would still care about Christine, but not only is it impossible for Christine to know that, Howard himself doesn’t know. Power doesn’t corrupt, power reveals that you were corrupt all along. “Can’t you see I’m the good guy?” See what?

The next day, Howard gets demoted at work. Something went wrong with a fax machine and the copy came out too light; yeah, like a symbol. Chad sees Christine one last time. She confronts him. Chad tries to keep a straight face and then breaks out grinning: “Fuck it. Surprise.”

CHAD: So how does it feel? I mean right now. This instant. How do you feel inside, knowing what you know?

Christine slaps him and begins to sob.

A few days later, Howard shows up at Chad’s place. He’s distraught. Chad jokes around about the contest, then gestures to the other room, where his old girlfriend is sleeping in his king-sized bed. “What the hell? I mean, when did she crawl back?” Howard says. “She never left, Howie,” Chad says, “She’s always been right there.” “Then...why? Why, Chad?”

Good question. The first clue is when Howard runs into Chad and Christine on a date: “Howard and I have the same alma mater. He graduates a semester ahead of me, and now he's my boss,” Chad says, and for once the bitterness creeps in. The second is when Howard, blaming the higher-ups, sends Chad out of town:

CHAD: The real injustice here is if I could throw a curveball—you know, a really good one—just that, nothing else, no education, nothing—none of this would matter. Play in the big leagues for ten years, retire to Oahu.

Chad is handsome, confident, clever, and quite possibly a representation of The Great Deceiver himself. And yet, to get laid, Chad has to contort himself into a puppy. To get paid, he has to kiss ass to Windows 95 robots who wear beige and drink decaf. He spends the day humoring people who won’t acknowledge the joke—that if he could just play stupid arbitrary baseball, he wouldn’t have to. He’s powerless: no matter how well Chad tells his lies, the system determines the signifiers into which these lies fit.

But Howard—Howard believes in the system. He’s exactly the sort of person who created the phatics that Chad has to obey, who follows even the most vacuous rules with moral seriousness, clings to them all the harder as they turn him into a self-loathing nebbish. Chad’s revenge is to turn the rules against him, to show that no matter how oppressive social protocols get, they will always oppress Chad less, since he’ll say whatever bullshit is required while you’re stuttering your feelings on Whitman. The more checkboxes you demand checked, the more you favor the liar. Chad is bound by the rules of the game, but these rules are what gives him relative power: they make people trust him. “Because I could,” Chad says. “See you Monday.”

There’s a practical lesson here. Every day ambulances scream into the ED carrying young men who moan and complain that they are bedeviled by wine-loving dog moms, fluent in sarcasm, and yet for some reason they can’t get the time of day from those goth chicks who have tongues stuck out and eyes rolled up at all times. I’m not here to kinkshame, send pics if you’re a goth chick with your tongue stuck out and eyes rolled up at all times. But please be aware that lusting after a mannequin is a surefire way to get [extremely Taleb voice] fooled by randomness: the more detailed the script, the more you favor the actor.

I’m not saying you can’t have a type, but the person willing to sacrifice that last ounce of selfhood will always be closest to your 21st century ideal of bimboification. “There are smart women, but I don’t know many women with truly original ideas,” says the cerebral young man who needs four search operators to find adequate porn. Don’t worry—this process is dehumanizing for the fetishized person, but it’s dehumanizing in the other direction as well: only someone who doesn’t care what you think about them, about their real self, would consent to play a fake.

The problem with fetishization is that it prizes symbol above reality, and unfortunately for Christine, dating is systematized fetishization. Not a diss—this is how dating is supposed to work. If our intuition for love is inculcated by Disney, dating replaces the hero’s journey with its symbols: clothes and music as proxy for backstory; movie or pub crawl as proxy for adventure; astrology, Myers-Briggs, and 36 Questions as a proxy for intimacy. Dick pics and nudes test sexual potency without costing the two drink minimum, text and emoji idiosyncrasies reveal more about class and education than a brunch and a half. Dating is an attempt to economize romance, it’s unsurprising that the term was coined in the wake of the Industrial Revolution.

“You know that birds sing, right?” Sure, but nobody has any illusions about what the birds are looking for. I’m not knocking ritual, just ritual that pretends it’s something deeper. If milord sends milady twelve roses, a thoroughbred, a fiefdom, and a bard playing D’Angelo, this courtship is not taken as evidence of good character. It is judged on its own merits, i.e. this guy is either really interested or thirsty af.

This would be common sense except that every force in modern society is opposed to it. Since women are valued as approximations of fetish, they a) lose points for wearing the wrong symbols, and b) lose points if a partner doesn’t fit the brand. So now the first date Scantrons become radiant with their own fascination, because even if they have no meaning except “went through the motions,” everyone on Facebook is acting like they do, and “he seemed nice” is no excuse for dating a Trump supporter or a black guy. And now that privacy has moved public, the list of checkboxes lengthens as men try to gerrymander pussy (which again, always favors Chad) and Cosmopolitan feminists generate new metrics by which women can fall short.

These bureaucrats may have been hurt themselves, they may have the best of intentions. Perhaps that’s why their regulations are never phrased as hostile takeover. Instead, they take the form of advice, #lifehacks, and laugh-tracked satire at a third party’s expense. That’s how it always is, a friendly voice lends you a superego and all you have to do is pay interest on shame. The system wins when its values become your own.

However strong this force was historically, it’s stronger now that society consists of, let me check my phone, everyone. Just as metropolises are now made up of showrooms and gift shops, the demands of 7.442 billion potential tourists outweighing a pittance of locals, the citizens shape themselves into fungible, neon-dyed tchotchkes, while being tormented by the possibility that they have fallen short in this important moral task. The end-game of dating is the targeted ad.

Before you start in on “swipe culture,” let’s be clear: no one has met cute through friends since the second war in Iraq, and Tinder, whatever faults it may have, at least requires the sacred fumbling of getting to know a stranger. OKCupid is a better example of modern anti-romance, with its careful sorting of partners by politics and caste, with its swamp of information bias that disguises—encourages—lying on the internet. But of course a Yelped bar or bookstore offers the same anonymity, the same curated selection who respond to the same empty lines until you start to hate them for it, like how dare you force me to lie, how dare you be so predictable, and this weakness makes them human which isn’t what you wanted anyway. No doubt they feel the same.

If this sounds bad, it gets worse: the above process is directly responsible for the most modern misandry and misogyny. Please note that the Women Are From Venus stereotypes have largely disappeared, even among misogynists. Please further note that #blackpilled misogynists rarely objectify women; in fact many of these men intentionally desexualize the “female race” and substitute, say, male crossdressers. The catcalling misogyny of the past came from a position of power: internet death threat misogyny comes from desperation. The twist is that the same transition has occurred among women—that despite every metric claiming that women are better off than before, women have moved from Men Are From Mars to a nagging suspicion that anything with a phallus should die.

Why would both sexes feel more powerless? Not discussed in polite society, but heavily discussed by misogynists, is the apparent epidemic of transactional sex: paypig/findommes, camgirls, sugar babies, and omnipresent Amazon wishlists. Sorta kitschy, free country, whatever. I’m sure part of this is mere technological transition, the gyration of the strip club from analog to digital, and Kanye informs me that there have always been implicit gold digging arrangements. But think about what happens when these private arrangements go public. First, some guy starts to associate “hot girl” with “:P spoil me”, and FYI, anger and lust, both performed with a closed fist, are exactly zero degrees apart on the axis of masturbation. And now that our guy has this (maybe unconscious) association, women have to rise to the occasion, e.g. make snotty demands for Venmo donations, because even though this makes him howl with rage, if it’s not there, he assumes the girl’s not that hot.

Everyone loses: women learn that they have to put on an act to get attention, except that half of men think they should die for this act and the other half—even the ones looking for a Serious Relationship—seem to lose interest if it’s ever turned off. Meanwhile the guy grows increasingly lonely/desperate/bitter as he tautologizes that every single girl he likes is an “attention whore." Our guy doesn’t know who he is or what he wants outside of anger and its aesthetics. Maybe he’d hit it off great with one of those women; maybe he should choose a different set of superficialities to pursue; maybe people lie on the internet; regardless, OKCupid gives them a compatibility of 43%.

And meanwhile women are wondering the same thing: how can you know?

There’s one more crucial scene In The Company of Men. Howard arrives at an airport and sees Christine working at a desk. He walks over to her and says, “Listen.” She doesn’t respond. So he says it again, “Listen,” and again, and again, screaming now and—

—but what could he say? Even if his intentions were pure to the utmost, what could he possibly say or do that wouldn’t be perceived as an act? What could any man do that wouldn’t be perceived in the same way? “I asked her what time it was. You know, Mountain, Central.” No wonder she hit you.

This is how society arrives at an absence of faith. It’s no coincidence that Chad executed his scheme as a tourist: that meant there were no witnesses to his character. It’s no coincidence that he picked a nervous brown-eyed waif—someone with too much self-doubt to trust her instincts, someone who draped herself in the trappings of goodness, someone too inexperienced to know that perfect is always a trap. But Christine was chosen because she was deaf. She couldn’t hear voices, she could only see the words. Now the words are gone. The question is what remains.

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adarkroomandawallflower · 7 years

Text

Working at NASA with Peter Maximoff Headcanons

-Peter would definitely work in the department that requires the most math because let’s face it, he’s sooo good with it -So, he’d be a part of the department that designs & calculates everything necessary for the shuttle to launch, reach its destination, perform its tasks, & return to Earth all in one piece -This requires A LOT of Physics & Calculus, among many other forms of difficult mathematics, but it’s all a piece of cake for him -Not a lot of his coworkers like him because he’s like the Mulder of NASA where he does absolutely brilliant work, but he’s obsessed with the idea of extraterrestrial life & alternate universes, so people tend to judge him for that instead of his work -It doesn’t bother NASA though because he’s completely brilliant & an asset to them, so they happily keep him employed -He holds 2 PhDs in Quantum Physics & Cosmology, a Master’s in Chemistry, & a BS in Astrobiology, so it’s no wonder he has a love of thinking outside the box & paranormal since he literally holds PhDs in two areas dedicated to utilizing alternate explanations & unconventional thinking -He’s a fast worker & thinker, another reason why he’s such an important worker -He was recently appointed as the leader of his sector, although he still behaves as humbly & shyly as he always is -He’s respectful of everyone’s opinions & input & does an incredible job at making sure that everything was a team effort

-You were also an important worker to NASA, but in a different retrospect -You were one of those people who didn’t really have an assigned sector, so you jumped around from sector to sector when they were in need & you offered your assistance -You were incredibly adapt, quick to mold right in to whatever sector you were assigned to & do your work with integrity. This is because your educational background is all over the place. A PhD in Biology/Astrobiology & 3 Master’s in Psychology, Math, & English proves that your dedication lies in more than one field & that makes you especially important to NASA. They need more adaptable employees like you because of your amazing skill in multiple areas

-You eventually get assigned into Peter’s sector & this is where you meet for the first time -Your desk was right next to his -Peter is actually one the quieter guys of his group, but he always brings extensive laughter to conversations whenever he does speak -He’s a total cutie pie the first time you meet, smiling cutely at you with his dimples showing, his gray dress shirt a little messy, but clean & molded nicely to his chest. His black dress pants were really crisp & nice (& made his butt look 👌👌👌). He wore a huge pair of aviator glasses (he wore his glasses on days where he worked at his desk & wore his goggles on the days when he was doing aeronautics testing for the shuttle in the wind tunnel) that he was constantly pushing up his nose, his breastpocket always had three pens stuck inside behind his ID, which was also clipped to his pocket, & he had his Walkman strapped to his hip, claiming he could never work under such stressful conditions without a little Pink Floyd or RUSH to ease the nerves -He’s a little shy but incredibly friendly & is so happy to have you in his sector -He flashed you one of his charmed smiles where his dimples showed prominently on his face as he stuck out his hand towards you -“Hi, I’m Peter. I’m the leader of our sector & I just wanted to welcome you to the team! I’ve heard such great things about you & I’m so excited & honored to have you work with us." -He shook your hand so hard you thought it would fall off

-Your first day in Peter’s sector was crazy & you were swamped with so much work that you had to stay way past your shift -Peter also stayed past his shift, as he always did, so you were able to witness the excited look on his face when looked through your work -He was so impressed with your work & he wasn’t shy to tell you about it as you both locked up for the night -“This is incredible work! I can’t even tell you how impressive this is. And how fast you completed it? Wow, just wow; you’re going to be a great addition to this sector!” -He’d look at you the whole time he complimented you & smile, but then he’d get nervous & blush, maybe even fix his tie so you wouldn’t directly notice the pinkening of his cheeks

-After that night, you both worked overtime a lot & tried to spend as much of that time together as possible -Besides working in the same sector & Peter basically being your supervisor & second boss, you start spending a lot more time with him because you found out early on that you both tend to stay way after hours completing your work. He had no problem working so late at night, he’s so energized even at 3 am

-Peter totally started falling for you not very long after your first day -He admired your work, dedication, & kindness (& your face) -In the beginning, you always referred to him as ‘Dr. Maximoff’ & although he lowkey loved that you recognized his title because it made him feel validated, he reminded you that it wasn’t necessary because you were all doctors here anyway -The first time you called him ‘Peter’ he choked on his coffee & practically nutted because his name left your lips so smoothly & lovely -It was so obvious there was something between you two, but you were both scientists & always put your work first before personal pleasures

-That being said, Peter had considered & planned on asking you out to dinner several times, but he always got nervous & uncertain & turned away last minute -“Hey, wait!” -“Yes, Peter?” -“Before you go, I was wondering…would you…uh…grab me a coffee?” -“Sure thing” -*swearing at himself under his breath* “You fucking idiot!” -“What?” -“What?” -“Did you say something?” -“Nope I didn’t say anything. Did you hear anything?” -“I guess not"

-Before either of you realized it, the shuttle launch day was only a week away & everyone suddenly kicked into overdrive -You & Peter barely spoke to one another as you hastily prepared for the launch -‘Hello’s were barely even exchanged -Peter was too wrapped up in his immensive workload at first, but as he continued to see you staying after with him every night, he wished he could just ask you out already -Once the shuttle was launched, everything slowed down considerably at NASA & everyone could actually relax for once -This was when you discovered a whole new side to Peter, one that just made you fall for his dorky ass even more

-As part of being a PhD, you have to conduct research & get it published into the world. Outside of his employment at NASA, Peter was researching & calculating the prospective possibility of alternate universes & extraterrestrial life -Of course, you heard about how Peter loved his share of conspiracy theories, especially ones involving space, but you didn’t realize he actually conducted research on them -Both Quantum Physics & Cosmology investigate & attempt to calculate the unknowns of the world, especially the whole concept of duality. Everything in the universe supposedly has an exact opposite: light & dark, sun & moon, etc., but what about things we don’t know the opposites to, like matter or black holes? Theoretically, these fields of science calculate & investigate what these opposites are & attempt to explain how they work, but finding them is a whole different ball park -It’s all completely mesmerizing & beyond incredible to look at it, but you were amazed that Peter was actually able to calculate & predict what these things were -Eventually, once you guys get close enough, he shows you all of his work he’s been doing in private, the investigating & mathematical calculations about the possibility of life on other planets, alternate universes, & unknown dualities -You didn’t think he was crazy for a second, in fact, he was on to something. You were shocked at what his evidence showed & you got so excited “Peter, you have to tell someone! This is incredible!” -That’s all it took, for you to be proud & astonished by his work for him to finally be completely smitten with you -He kissed you, right then & there, the taste of old coffee & Twinkies on his breath as you kissed in the warmth of his dimly lit office at 2 am -“Am I in an alternate universe or did you really just kiss me?” -“Just shut up & kiss me again” -“Nope, I’m definitely still in the same universe”

-You guys spent a lot of overtime kissing in his office after that -You still stayed after late out of habit, but you guys spent most of that time making out (after you finished all your work, of course) -Unfortunately, not long after the launch, the time had come for you to leave Peter’s sector & be assigned to a new one -Peter was devastated at first, but he realized later it was actually for the better because now you guys had an excuse to get together outside of work for a real date

-He took you to an art gallery for your first date because Peter had a complete soft spot for art & they were opening up a new space exhibit he was dying to see -It was the coolest thing ever because there were actual models of planets & satellites hanging from the ceiling & paintings of space were all around you -It was also really romantic because they dimmed the lighting drastically to really show off the art -Peter kissed you in the star room because you looked so pretty under the artificial starlight & he just couldn’t help himself -It was a really really good date

#peter maximoff #spooky!peter #space #nasa #geniuses #glasses!peter #the love of my life #precious boy #quicksilver #peter maximoff headcanon #x men

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emphasisonem · 7 years

Note

I would absolutely love to see your take on this: “hOOOoooOo shit, so you’re the older sibling my best friend always talks about hahah wow tHEY NEVER BOTHERED TELLING ME YOU WERE THIS HOT” au

Title: Catch Me a Catch

Summary

“James, you-” Steve stammers, face flushing as his brow furrows. “You’re- you’re Bucky?!”

“I am,” Bucky replies, taking a sip of his drink, curious to see if checking Steve out ahead of time is going to backfire because the blond looks equal parts surprised and annoyed.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Steve cross his arms over his chest, and yeah, maybe Bucky should have thought this plan through just a little bit more.

“Wait,” Becca’s eyes dart between the two of them. “Did you just call him James? Do you two know each other?”

In which Becca desperately wants to introduce her friend Steve to her brother Bucky, but it turns out that the two of them have already met.

So, this isn’t quite the prompt, but I like the way it turned out and I hope that you do too! Thank you for the request!

“You’re coming to my birthday party tonight, Rogers, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

Becca glares down at him, bright red lips pursed tightly together. Steve knows that look well, knows there’s not a chance in hell that he’s getting out of attending this party no matter how much he’d rather spend Friday night curled up on his couch in sweats and watching Netflix.

Steve sighs, shoving the last of the newly released books into the bottom shelf of the display case he’s been working on, and pushes himself up. Becca’s nearly a foot shorter than Steve is, but with her hands on her hips, and that glare that follows him up, Steve knows better than to underestimate her.

“Becca,” Steve sighs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and kicking at the ground. “You know parties aren’t my scene, especially parties at clubs. Plus, I’m broke. All the money I make here goes toward tuition and art supplies; you know that.”

“Rogers,” Becca huffs, an amused smirk curling across her lips. “It’s an open bar for most of the night. Besides, I want you to meet my girlfriend and my brother. I know you’d probably rather wander through the city streets sketching or whatever it is you do in your free time, but you are coming. You might even have fun. And I really think you and Bucky would get along.”

“Oh my god,” Steve groans, running a hand through his hair as he grabs the empty cardboard box at his feet and heads toward the back room of the bookshop Becca’s parents own. “Beck, you need to chill out. Your brother sounds like a cool guy, but just because I’m bi and he’s gay doesn’t mean we’re gonna have some instant connection or whatever.”

“Yeah, well, you should have thought about that before telling me you haven’t been on a date in over a year, Steve,” Becca chuckles, following her friend. “You’re my friend now, and I just want my friends to be happy. And if I can also make my currently-single brother happy? Well, two birds, one stone. Come on, you’re totally his type, and he’s a good guy. Not quite as handsome as you, but most people I know find him pretty darn attractive.”

“Look,” Steve sighs, setting the cardboard box down by the rest of the recycling. “I will come to your party. I will have a few drinks. I will meet your girlfriend and your brother and be friendly. But only on the condition that you stop meddling.”

Becca squeals, throwing her arms around Steve’s midsection and hugging him so tightly that he grunts. For such a tiny little thing, Rebecca Barnes is awfully damn strong.

“All right, all right,” Steve chuckles, pushing the young woman back gently. “You’re going to break my spine and I’m not done shelving for the day.”

“Thank you, Steve!” Becca exclaims, releasing him from her hug, gripping his hands and squeezing gently. “You won’t regret it!”

And then Becca’s bouncing back to the register, leaving Steve alone to wonder about how vaguely ominous the brunette’s parting words had been.

Becca’s gone for the day to get ready for her party, and Steve’s nearly finished with his closing rituals when he hears the bell above the door tinkling gently. He just manages not to groan aloud at the idea of a customer coming in five minutes before closing, and he’s glad he does because it turns out to be his favorite semi-regular.

“I’m so, so sorry,” the dark-haired man grins, breathing heavily as he brushes a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “I know it’s almost closing time, but I got held up at work and I gotta get a present for a party. I know exactly what I’m lookin’ for; I swear I’ll only be a second.”

Steve just stares for a moment, trying to remember how to speak. Usually the man’s longish hair is hanging loose to his shoulders or swept up into a messy bun, but he’s clearly cleaned up for the party he’s attending. He’s not in his usual ratty jeans and layers of hoodies and jackets. Instead, snug, dark wash jeans hug his long legs and muscular thighs, and a polished black peacoat is what’s keeping him warm. His face, usually graced with a five o’clock shadow, is clean-shaven, and his hair is braided back away from his face. Steve’s breath actually catches a little at the sight before him.

“That’s-” Steve finally manages to reply, smiling at the man. “That’s fine, James. I’ll, uh, I’ll just be here when you’re ready, okay?”

“Thank you so much, Steve,” James grins, stormy eyes sparkling as he strides into the shelves, disappearing from view. Steve slumps forward, hands against the counter as he breathes in deeply. He wishes he’d just told Becca about the cute regular - it might have saved him the awkward attempted set-up with her brother- but then he’d have to deal with her interfering with his love life while he’s on the job.

“You doin’ all right, pal?” Steve starts at the sound of James’s deep voice laced with amusement. “You look like a man on death row.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, grabbing the book from the other man’s hand and scanning the barcode. “I’m all right. I have to go to a party tonight too, and I’m just bracing myself for my friend’s attempt at playing matchmaker.”

James grins, handing Steve some cash, and Steve nearly shivers at the feeling of the brunet’s fingers brushing against his own. “Well, you never know. Might not be so bad. And I can’t really imagine anybody’d turn down a guy as handsome as you are.”

“Hah,” Steve rubs a hand against the back of his neck as he hands James his change and fumbles the book into one of the plastic bags they keep at the register. “Thanks, I, uh, we’ll see I guess. Enjoy your evening, James.”

“You as well, Steve,” James winks, then disappears out the front door, the bell ringing hollow in Steve’s ears as he watches him go.

Steve sighs, moving to the door to flip the sign from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed’ before locking the door and heading to the break room to grab his coat.

Bucky’s standing at the bar with Becca and Wanda, sipping on a vodka tonic when Bookstore Steve walks in, looking absolutely stunning as always. He’s changed into darker jeans and a navy sweater that hugs his gorgeous frame perfectly, and Bucky can’t keep from admiring him.

As soon as Becca’d told him about her new coworker, Steve, Bucky had decided he needed to check the guy out for himself, since his baby sister has a tendency to exaggerate a guy’s greatness if she thinks Bucky might be interested. Of course, knowing his sister’s schedule made it very easy to pop in now and again when she wasn’t around, and when he’d first seen Steve, Becca’s description of him as a “blond demigod with eyes as blue as a clear May sky” suddenly seemed like an understatement instead of the most dramatic thing he’d ever heard.

And, yeah, Bucky now has roughly twenty unread novels stacked around his apartment, but each of those books has given him a chance to chat with Steve, to get to know him a little better, and he has a really good feeling about the shy, polite, surprisingly sassy blond.

Bucky turns back to the bartender, signaling for another drink so that Steve won’t see his face right away. He knows the moment Steve arrives because Becca excitedly introduces him to Wanda (whom Bucky adores because he’s never seen Becca so happy) and then there’s a tug on the sleeve of his red button-up.

“Steve,” Becca shouts over the music. “This is my brother Bucky. Bucky this is my friend from the bookstore, Steve.”

Bucky turns, a wide smile on his face as he extends his hand. He’s not sure how he manages not to laugh at the stunned look on the other man’s handsome face, shaking his hand and telling him what an absolute pleasure it is to finally meet him officially.

“James, you-” Steve stammers, face flushing as his brow furrows. “You’re- you’re Bucky?!”

“I am,” Bucky replies, taking a sip of his drink, curious to see if checking Steve out ahead of time is going to backfire because the blond looks equal parts surprised and annoyed.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Steve cross his arms over his chest, and yeah, maybe Bucky should have thought this plan through just a little bit more.

“Wait,” Becca’s eyes dart between the two of them. “Did you just call him James? Do you two know each other?”

“He’s a regular at the bookstore,” Steve replies, eyes narrowing as he glares at Bucky. It shouldn’t be getting Bucky hot under the collar, but the intensity in that gaze has Bucky’s head swimming a bit. “And you only ever came in when Becca wasn’t around. Were you trying to check me out without your sister knowing?”

“And, I believe that is our cue to dance, darling,” Wanda purrs, grabbing Becca’s wrist and dragging her away from the two men. She smiles at Bucky over her shoulder and winks, and Bucky grins gratefully in return.

Steve’s still glaring at him, but Bucky just smiles and says, “Can I get you a drink, Steve?”

Steve blinks, then studies Bucky carefully before replying, “Yeah, okay. Any lager they have on tap is fine.”

Bucky orders the drink, handing it to Steve and the motioning for the man to follow him to a quiet corner of the club.

“All right, so,” Bucky smiles apologetically. “I know it’s maybe weird that I never told you I was Becca’s brother. But I was curious about you; the way she described you, you seemed too good to be true. And she mentioned that you were very skeptical of set-ups, so I didn’t want to blow my chances right out the gate. Especially once I started talking to you and figured out that you were not only unbelievably handsome, but that you were also a really nice guy.”

Steve’s biting on his lower lip, clearly trying not to smile as Bucky pauses.

“Go on, James” Steve urges, blue eyes warming up considerably as he bumps his shoulder against Bucky’s. Bucky likes that gaze and the way Steve’s fighting a losing battle against his impulse to grin.

“Do you know how many books I have to read now?” Bucky asks, liking the way Steve laughs. “Not that I mind; I love books. But, really, you’re the only reason I’ve been coming into my parents’ shop so often. My mom’s been makin’ fun of me about it for weeks now.”

“Is that right?” Steve questions, a gentle finger trailing up and down Bucky’s arm as he smiles, eyes darkening when Bucky shivers.

“That’s right,” Bucky answers, voice firmer and surer than he’d anticipated. “And I think maybe you should let me take you out sometime. Because I’m pretty sure you think I’m cute too. And you can call me Bucky, you know. Most people do”

“Oh, you’re pretty sure, huh?” Steve chuckles, leaning down to whisper in Bucky’s ear. “Because, I’ll be honest, cute’s not really the word I think of when you walk through the door of the bookstore, Bucky. Rugged? Sure. Sinful? Absolutely. Sexy? Definitely. But not cute.”

“So, is that a yes?” Bucky’s a little breathless as Steve’s nose grazes his cheek when he pulls back. “Let me take you to dinner?”

“That’s a yes,” Steve smiles, threading his fingers through Bucky’s and tugging him forward. “Now, what’s say we join your sister and her girl on the dance floor? I’m sure she’ll think it’s an even better present than the book you got her, given how adamant she’s been about me meeting you.”

Bucky knows he’s grinning like a fool, like a lovesick middle-schooler, but he can’t bring himself to care as he nods and lets Steve drag him onto the dance floor and pull him close.

“I told you,” Becca grins at Wanda as the two of them sway to the music. “I’m the best matchmaker of all time.”

Wanda rolls her eyes with a smile. “Truly, dear, your skills are positively occult.”

“Hey now,” Becca tugs Wanda close, lips brushing against Wanda’s mouth as she laughs. “Be nice to me. It is my birthday, after all.”

“And you got exactly what you wanted,” Wanda replies, kissing Becca sweetly as she wraps her arms around her girlfriend’s neck.

“I did at that,” Becca sighs happily, smiling when she catches Bucky’s eye, and giggling as her brother winks before he goes back to chatting animatedly with Steve.

Yup. Matchmaker extraordinaire. Becca should add it to her business card.

#stucky #stucky au #fluff #matchmaking #meddling sister #meet-cute

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pettyicequeencee-blog · 7 years

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I Don’t Date Black Women

Racial preference and dating seems to be all the rage lately. I’ve come across a multitude of videos/articles explaining why Black men (especially those who are famed and wealthy) “prefer” White (or non-Black women) over Black women when it comes to dating. While I sit back, sip my Jameson (or tea if I’m at work), I cannot help but wonder WHO made not dating Black women trendy? So let’s talk about it.

Recently a Miami Dolphin football player has received a lot of backlash over a post asking why do Black men go for White women once they reach a certain level of wealth and fame. Not sure who the troll was, but he decided to give us some “insight” on why he doesn’t deal with Black women. Ready? And go!

-We’re stubborn, uneducated (because he assumes that all of us believes that things are 50/50 in a relationship)

-We all like to argue and be the boss

-We don’t take responsibilities for our actions

-We are not coachable.

Whew! Sounds like a mouthful doesn’t it?! That’s because it is. A mouthful of complete, biased, closed minded bullshit and it doesn’t stop there. I

WE ARE NOT THE SAME

I should not have to even explain to someone’s grown son that we are not the same. Just as much as men like to let women know that he is not like the last man, give us the same opportunity to display that we are not like all women, Black or not. Not every Black woman grew up in a broken home. Not every Black woman likes to argue. Not every Black woman grew up in an Urban ghetto. There are plenty of us that with degrees, businesses, careers, good credit, and common sense. Many of us come from loving families with both mom and dad present. I am not responsible for your past experiences with other women, at all.

I DIDN’T ASK YOU….

How many times as a woman/Black woman have you heard a Black man say “I don’t date Black women”? Now how many times have you actually asked that person whether or whether not he dated Black women? Let’s be real for a second, most Black women don’t and shouldn’t have to question whether another man the same Ethnicity as her would date her when engaging in a regular conversation. I have experienced the “I don’t date Black women” in a conversation not even aimed at racial dating preferences. It’s almost as if these type of Black men WANT us to ask and beg for their love and attention. They want to hurt us and make us wonder why they aren’t into us and before us women go around getting our panties in a bunch, just remember, we didn’t ask, therefore we shouldn’t care.

I’ve had my own personal experiences with dealing with Black men that seem to think that White/non-Black women are better. A while ago in college I worked at a shitty coffee spot (the one where you where green aprons) and my coworker was this Black male who apparently only dated White women, except I didn’t get the memo. I also didn’t care, but every time we worked together he made it his job to let me know that he was not into me. Funny, right? So literally every White girl that walked into the store, he’d rush over to me to tell me how “bad” or “cute” he thought she was. After the third time I became annoyed and here’s why. I DIDN’T ASK YOU. White woman or not, I do not care to hear about your sexual interests in other women, because I am not sexually interested. I never understood why men love to compare women to other women. I find it quite annoying. If I were to constantly talk about my sexual interests in a man to another man, I’m sure he wouldn’t want to hear it. Anyway, I finally told him that I didn’t care so why is he going out of his way to make me see how attracted he is to a White woman.

So when I asked him what’s his deal I guess he thought it was story time. This opened up the platform for him to explain why he only dates White women. Black women that he has approached aren’t attracted to him. (Grabs tissues) He claimed that his ex, who is Black, had set him up to be robbed. (Sheds tears) Then, he proceeds to say, that he actually found me attractive. (Plays world’s smallest violin) I had to stop him right the fuck there. I had zero sympathy for this dude. How dare you purposely try to insult my character, my beauty, and my mental by belittling me as a Black woman, only to turn around and hit me with some weak ass sob story of your ex and then proceed to “flirt” with me. N*gga, you sound bitter.

BITTER N*GGA SYNDROME IS REAL

What is Bitter N*gga Syndrome? And who does it affect? Bitter N*gga Syndrome is a mental disability which distorts and clouds the mind of the Black male with the illusion that any negative experiences that they have had that has involved a Black woman is a right of passage to display White supremacy tactics and belittle all Black women. Those that suffer Bitter Nigga Syndrome often display signs of suppressed self hatred, self loathe, and idolization of Western/European culture while depreciating their own culture and women within their culture because they [may or may not] have been severely damaged mentally and emotionally and are unable to cope with the aftermath their experience.

Now, I’m no doctor, but I hope that one day my diagnoses can one day help those who suffer from this mental illness because this ish is too real to go untreated. We all have been hurt before. Let’s face it, Black women have experienced more trauma in relationships than men and any other race of women. This is not to say that men do not face hurt in relationships, or that White women have never been lied to or cheated on, but the treatment of Black women by Black men has not been a cake walk.

I will not deny that there are some great Black men out there, however, I have dealt with some that really…… ain’t shit and I could be bitter about that. I’ve been lied to, cheated on, placed on the back burner, used, and dealt with men that put zero effort into. Needless to say, anytime a woman has a bad experience with men it is always labeled as the woman’s fault. We should choose our men more wisely. It is our fault that he lied and gave us false hope. It is our fault that it takes two to produce a child. Ironically, the same misogynistic mindset of taking ownership and responsibility over one’s life choices never seems to apply to men. Anytime we voice a concern about (Black) men, we are angry, loud, disrespectful, or bitter. However, a Black man will not take ownership of the part that he has played in a past failed relationship. It is always the Black woman’s fault.

DEAR BLACK MEN, YOU ARE NOT SQUEAKY CLEAN

Black men who don’t date Black women often give off this montage as if they are squeaky clean, and sorry fellas we all have assholes and your shit is capable of stinking. Stop it. Stop pretending that you have never hurt anyone in your precious White washed life of yours. Plenty of you have lied, cheated, fathered kids out of wedlock, have no degree, grew up without a father figure, and don’t understand the importance of respect and communication within a relationship. None of us are perfect and a man’s pride often gets in the way of a relationship’s potential to grow. A woman is your equal. Period. We can be submissive while still thinking for ourselves. We are not here to stroke your ego to the point that it shames us.

I read a few articles on Blackwomenareeasy.com and I couldn’t help but to think, who is this douchebag of a man writing these articles. Why is it that there is always a man feeding us his misogyny and trying to tell women how they should act in relationships and in society? Why is it that men have a hard time fact checking other men when they fuck up in a relationship or on how they treat women, but they are quick to let a woman know what she is doing wrong? Yes, I do believe that as HUMAN BEINGS, we are responsible for our own happiness and what we allow in our lives, however, let’s not down play the role of a man in failed relationships. I get sick and tired of the finger pointing in both directions. All men and women are capable of doing fuck-shit things, period, but I refuse to not acknowledge the fact that society has the mindset that “boys will be boys”. No. No. No. No. Hold men accountable for what they do.

THE APPROPRIATION OF THE BLACK FEMALE

So you mean to tell me that if I wear my hair in dredlocks or in it’s natural state that it’s unprofessional and that my hair is nappy, but a White model at fashion week can wear faux locs and it’s now fashionable. The Kartrashians can wear braids and it is now trendy, meanwhile I’ve been wearing cornrows for years and will face scrutiny at a job because my hairstyle is deemed too ethnic. Some 13 year old wanna be hoodrat can tell you to “cash me outside, how bout dat” and she is instantly famed for being violent and ratchet, but only because she is White.

This right here folks is appropriation in it’s finest form and we as Black women can’t speak out against it or we’re being angry. I am constantly being compared to White women. I am constantly being told that my hair, skin, dialect, and culture is inappropriate, meanwhile the White woman mocking my culture is accepted and even given credit for something my ancestors have been doing for ages. This sends us the perfect message. That it’s not what you do, it’s who’s doing it that makes is acceptable or not. What upsets me even more is that Black men support cultural appropriation. You don’t want a Black woman, yet you will settle for a White/non-Black woman who appropriates Black culture.

WE DON’T WANT TO DATE YOU SO NEITHER CAN WHITE MEN

Stop it. You’re being messy and it’s unattractive. My father has 6 kids by 5 different women. He had the nerve to tell 15 year old me that he is done dating Black women because they don’t listen and do what he says. Here he was, a Black man that is supposed to be showing me what it feels to be loved and treated by Black men, and he had failed me completely. He was the same Black man that has told me not to date White men. He was the same Black man that always spoke ill of the mother’s of his children. He was the same Black man that did the bare minimum when it came to financially helping his children. He was the same Black man that missed birthdays, graduations, and more. He is the same Black man that is pro-Black/hotep but lacks respect for his own Black women.

Men like my father often think that because they won’t date you then that means that a man of another ethnicity cannot, and again that’s that Bitter N*gga Syndrome kicking in. The hoteps came flying in when they found out Serena Williams was engaged to a White man. She was every name in the book from sellout to bitch, and you wonder why she went the route that she did and did it silently. She didn’t have to tell us why she chose to be with a man that was not only White, but who also loved her. Some of you Black men fail to realize that we too get tired of the same ole shit with you. I love my Black men, I truly do, but do not be fooled. Black women do not owe themselves unto you. If you cannot appreciate us, please believe that there are plenty of men out there that can and will.

#blacklove blackwomen blackmen relationships blacklivesmatter idontdateblackwomen melanin interracial

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