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#but i’m so impatient and i’ve known her for YEARS and it genuinely makes my heart ache knowing how far she is from me
babyinatrenchcoat · 8 months
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Coming Out - Sister Winchester
Sooo this has been sitting in my drafts since 2017… apparently I came up with the idea in choir class my senior year 😅 I pretty much abandoned my account for like six years, but I’ve been revisiting it the last few days and thought I might as well finish this for shits and gigs.
Also, it turned out a bit more lengthy than I had originally anticipated… I don’t have a word count, I’m sorry
Descrpition: Coming out as gay/lesbian (whichever you prefer to say) to your older brothers.
Characters: Sam, Dean, Sister!reader, Charlie (mentioned)
Warnings: LGBTQ+ (if any of you need that as a warning), strong language (one word, said once)
~~~~~
Today is the day. The inevitability of this day gave you nightmares. The day you’d finally tell your brother’s the truth. You’re certain they both support it. They're fine with Charlie, after all. But that doesn't calm your nerves. The three of you found out pretty close to immediately upon meeting her. But you? Sam and Dean have known you your whole life. This will be so much different.
You pace back and forth in the bunker library, slowly boring a hole into the floor. Your thumb nail quickly becomes raw from your teeth as you run over what you plan to say in your head. This is the most nerve racking thing you’ve ever done. Ever had to do. Because this has to be done. They have to know the truth. It's the only way you can be your whole self around your family.
Not that you’re ashamed. No, it’s more that you’ve never actually said the words out loud. You’ve known about yourself for a very long time, but saying it aloud makes it real. These are different times. You know you have nothing to be ashamed of. Even still, your heart pounds in your throat.
The door starts to open, causing you to stop in your tracks and stare up at it. The color drains from your face, and your heart rate quickens, as if it was possible. Sam and Dean step inside, and you swear you can hear the rapid thumping of your heartbeat in you ears. Your brothers walk down the stairs and into the library where you stand chewing your nail with a terrified look on your face. They notice.
“What’s wrong, y/n?” The eldest brother asks.
“Did something happen?” Sam adds.
You take a deep breath. “Can you guys just sit down please?” The brothers exchange a confused glance before obeying.
“What's going on?” Sam asks as he pulls up his chair.
You run your hands through your hair and begin pacing again. Where do you begin? “Okay, so... I've been wanting to tell you guys this for a while now, but... I dunno, I've been scared, and I haven't really know how to do it, and-” Dean cuts off your rambling.
“Y/n,” he says, bringing your pacing to a halt. “You’re scaring me, kid, calm down. Breathe.” You obey. “Now tell us what's up. You didn't free the Leviathins again or anything, did you?”
You chuckle slightly. “No.”
“Then I don't think there's anything you could do that would be much worse,” he continues, adding a smile. “Talk to us, little sis.”
You try to rethink your approach, but come up dry. Finally, you become impatient with yourself and decide to just spill your guts. “Alright, I'm just gonna say it. But please, please promise that you won't hate me.”
“We could never hate you!” Sam immediately says.
The genuineness in his hazel eyes calms your nerves just a little. But only a little. You still have to force down the golf ball sized lump in your throat. You close your eyes and take another deep breath. Keeping your eyes shut, you finally let it out.
“I’m gay.”
And there it is. It’s out. You’re out. The reality of the words you just said sets in. You’ve never said those words out loud. The pit in your stomach tightens, and you have to hold your breath to keep from crying. Your nerves are still shot, but you also feel free. You’re out! There’s no taking it back now.
You keep your eyes pressed shut for a moment, afraid to see a disappointed look on your brothers’ faces. Finally, you convince yourself to pry one eye open, the curiosity of their reactions becoming overbearing.
Your brothers look at each other, then back at you. An identical smirk spreads across both pairs of lips.
What the hell is that?
Your other eye shoots open and you glare at them, waiting for something, anything, to come out of their mouths. “Well say something!” You practically shout. Dean fails to stifles a chuckle, while Sam allows his smile to spread further. “Why are you laughing?!”
“Y/n,” Same begins. “We know.”
Your whole world shatters, then the pieces come back together in an entirely new arrangement in a split second. The only word you can muster is “What?”
Dean clears his throat and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you remember when you told us about your first kiss?”
How could you forget? “Uh, I seem to remember the two of you pestering the shit out of me until I told you.”
You had made the mistake of coming back to the motel you temporarily called home still blushing profusely. You tried like hell to suppress the crimson color of your burning cheeks, to no avail. “What’s his name?” Your eldest brother had immediately said. How were you supposed to react to his use of the word ‘his’?
Dean snickers about the memory now. “Right,” he agrees. “Anyway, you told us the kid’s name was Alex.”
Where is he going with this? It’s not like you lied. You just chose to leave out the fact that Alex wasn’t a boy. “Yeah?”
Dean pauses for a moment as if to give you a chance to catch up. You respond by simply raising your brows, silently asking him to continue. He looks to Sam for help.
“There wasn’t a single boy named Alex in your school,” Sam says.
Oh.
Heat rises to your entire face. At the time, you hadn’t considered that possibility.
“There was, however, an Alexandra in your grade,” Dean adds. He lifts one eyebrow at you.
You cover the embarrassment on your face with your hands. You’ve been so worried to tell them something that they already knew. Since your were 15, you’ve been trying to keep a cat in a bag that had a giant hole in the bottom. A laugh pushes itself from your stomach, and you drop your hands.
“I should’ve known you guys would try to find the guy,” you say.
Sam scrunches his eyebrows, keeping the smile spread across his face. “Well, yeah,” he sasses.
“Did you honestly think that we would find out that some horny teenage boy was mackin’ on our kid sister and not try to find out who he was?” Dean says.
You toss your palms up in surrender. “Like I said, I should’ve known,” you smile. “You broke into the school, didn’t you?”
“Of course,” Sam casually says with a quick shrug. All you can do is shake your head. A short moment of silence later, Sam rises to his feet and holds out his arms. “C’mere,” he says, gesturing you towards the space between his arms.
In the time it takes you to walk to him, Dean stands as well, holding one arm open to you. You reach the two of them and collapse into the embrace of the group hug. The weight of a thousand worlds lifts off your shoulders and is replaced by comfort. Comfort you only ever feel from your brothers.
You squeeze your arms around them just a bit tighter. “You guys are the best big brothers a girl could ask for.”
Dean squeezes back and plants a kiss on the top of your head. “You mean the world to us, Y/n, you know that.”
You nuzzle yourself further into your brothers’ arms. The last ten minutes replays in your mind, and you can’t help but giggle. “I can’t believe you guys have known this whole time.”
“Of course we knew,” Sam’s voice sounds from above you. “And even if we hadn’t found out then, you’re not exactly discreet about checking out bartenders and waitresses.”
The only defense you can think of is a slap on his chest. The action sends the two men away from you in a laughing fit.
“I am so!”
“You are so not,” Dean says between chuckles.
After the three of you recover from your laughter, you just stare at them for a moment. You’ve been worried for nothing. These two dorks would do anything for you. There’s nothing in the universe that would make them think any less of you.
“I love you guys,” you say.
Dean reaches over and tousles your hair. “We love you too, kiddo.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Let me know if you guys want the story of the boys finding out about Alexandra, cause I would LOVE to write that in detail.
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chilly-me-softly · 3 years
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Okay I have a new request, you and him are bestfriends but you like each other everyone sees it but you and for this one I would really like it if you choose the footballer you're favourite or the one you think that fits with this imagine, you can choose (sorry for my bad English btw) thank you!!!
You and Mason had known each other for a few years, neither of you had ever had the courage to make a move so over time only a good friendship had been established between you. You spent a lot of time together, your often equivocal attitudes had caught the attention of many people but you had never taken the cue to start a conversation and conclude anything.
Like that time in the park, Mason was sitting with his back against a tree in the shade while you were lying with your head on his lap. Both of you were busy laughing at something and hadn't noticed that an older man had approached.
"Oh hello" you hear Mason say and you open your eyes, sitting up noticing the newcomer to see what he wanted.
"I'm sorry guys I didn't mean to disturb you, but you reminded me of me and my Bertha and so I walked over" the eighty-something elderly man has a wistful look on his face, his left arm not holding his stick is shaking slightly and you find him so soft.
You smile at him, "Was she your wife?" you ask after standing up out of respect, followed by Mason.
"We've spent over sixty years together, I've been without her for a year now"
"Sixty? Wow" Mason looks genuinely impressed and the man nods proudly.
"Those were other times, we married really young. If she's the one for you don't let her get away, the good days will always outnumber the dark ones" your gaze immediately meets Mason's. Neither of you can say anything, he tries to babble something but in the end just nods. The elderly gentleman stays chatting for another couple of minutes before deciding he's taken up enough of your time and slowly walking away to continue his walk.
"Sorry I didn't deny or anything earlier" Mason stutters awkwardly, a hand behind the back of his head and his cheeks slightly red as you shake your head.
"Oh no don't worry about it. It's fine, tat man just needed to chat" you look at each other for a few seconds before you suggest you go and once you've gathered your things you set off on your way.
It was now obvious to everyone that yours was more than just a friendship and they had tried to stay out of it but the sidelong glances and smiles and small gestures to each other were adding to their frustration. It was obvious that you both needed a nice big push without giving any room for possible misunderstandings and they knew how to do that too.
"What happened?" Declan, Ben and a few of your friends had arranged a small evening between you as usual so no one would be suspicious. But there was something strange between you and Mason in the way you looked at each other and related to each other.
"Me and (Y/N) were at the park today and a man approached us thinking we were together" Mason confesses looking at the contents of his glass.
"And what did you do? Please tell me you did something" Declan looks hopeful for a moment but the look of his friend wandering the floor makes him groan.
"Oh come on, you're so hopeless! That was your pass to finally do something. I'm not talking to you anymore" he rolls his eyes as he walks away and Mason watches him come to bother you who is quick to roll your eyes shaking your head.
Next thing you know you're all in a circle, an empty bottle in the middle dragged into a game whose rules you haven't quite figured out. Your friends had to show off their skills with the ball, but having already had a few drinks they only risked breaking some object in the room.
And then that bottle is also pointing at you. A slight sense of anxiety makes its way into your stomach as they make you go to the utility room to get some pepper. The others act quickly by turning the bottle over and Declan stops it on Mason suddenly.
"Hey that's not fair!" Mason complains as Declan takes the bottle in his hand in a threatening manner.
"Shut up! Just go over there now and do what you have to do"
"What?"
"Mason, I swear if you don't go over to (Y/N) and kiss her right now I'll do it"
"Don't you dare" Mason is on his feet soon after, a satisfied smile on his friend's face as he sees him walk towards the kitchen. Now they just have to wait.
You smile as you see Mason walk into the small room, "Hey Mase, sorry this is taking so long but I can't find the container"
"Forget it, you're not gonna find it anyway" he states approaching casually as a confused expression is drawn on your face. "What?"
"I'm the one paired with you"
"Okay so?" you ask even more confused.
"I'm the one who has to do something actually"
"Please tell me what they came up with" he paces the space between you holding his breath, yours dying in your throat finding him so close to your face.
"Mase" his hands stop on your cheeks, one of his thumbs gently caresses one of them.
"(Y/N)" he repeats in the same tone, "I just want to make one thing clear, no one forced me. Well they actually kind of did now but actually I really wanna-"
"Just kiss me already" you murmur impatiently, and on another occasion he would have laughed but in that moment he can only register that he's moving closer to you until your lips brush before touching properly.
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Hii I saw ur post about short blurbs and was wondering if you could do 5 or 13 🤍🤍
Well this did not end up being short 🤦‍♀️ but here ya go! Hope you enjoy!💜
It had been 2 years since y/n had moved away from Beacon Hills and half of her friends. Kira and y/n had ended up at the same college and in the same dorm. Lydia and Stiles both ended up about a half hour from them in different directions. The group was still close, but things were definitely different for all of them. Kira and Scott had grown apart and Scott and Malia had grown closer. Lydia and y/n had grown closer than before, they were always going back and forth on the weekends visiting with each other. Although y/n and Stiles were really close before, things had simmered down right before they left for school two years ago.
All their friends had sworn that the two were going to be together, even with college coming up. They were going to school close enough where they could totally still pursue a relationship. Somewhere though, Stiles and y/n had ‘grown apart’. At least that’s what their friends thought. In reality, neither of them really knew what had happened. It was like one moment they were falling for each other and the next it was just gone. Y/n and Stiles had both tried on different occasions to talk to each other, but something always got in the way.
Y/n walked into her apartment, that Kira was decorating...for Valentine's Day. “UGHHHHHH. Kira I thought we decided not to make a big deal out of this stupid holiday.”
“No...you decided that. Just because you’re still stuck on Stiles, doesn’t mean everyone else can’t be happy about love.” Kira announced.
“That’s not-no you’re. Ugh, whatever.” y/n replied, not having a come back, because what she had said was true.
y/n was still really hung up on Stiles, she was still so confused about what had happened to them back in Beacon Hills. There had been plenty of times since then that Lydia, Kira, y/n and Stiles had gotten together to hang out, even times when Scott and the others had come down to visit. However, their interactions were always strange and confusing. She hadn’t been able to date anyone else, and was honestly just making herself super unhappy.
“Before you make yourself too depressed, this was slipped under the door for you today.” Kira handed her a note, folded up with a huge heart on one side and y/n on the other.
“What...what is this?”
“I don’t know silly, clearly I haven’t opened it...since it’s for you…”
Y/n’s eyes rolled as the note was opened. It was typed and it read:
"When love is not madness it is not love." –Pedro Calderon de la Barca.
I have felt nothing but madness from the moment I laid eyes on you.
As she read it to Kira, she let out a screech, “y/n!!!!! Omg you totally have a secret admirer! This is so EXCITING!”
However y/n was doubtful, she left Kira to go to her room. Who on Earth could have sent this to her? Was it a joke? Was it real? The next day, nothing appeared under the door and it disappointed y/n, even though they would never admit that, especially to Kira!
The next day however, when y/n got home from work Kira was waiting impatiently by the door with a note in her hands. It looked exactly like the other one. She basically threw it in my face and stood over my shoulder as she repeated ‘open it, open it, open it’ in my ear.
This one read:
“Love is like an hourglass, with the heart filling up as the brain empties.” – Jules Renard. This, I can assure you, is true. I make dumb mistakes every time I’m around you.
“I literally have no idea who could be doing this. I don’t talk to anyone, no one even notices me around here!” y/n exclaimed, confused.
“Well, you must be wrong, because someone is DEFINITELY noticing you!!!!”
“No, this is just wrong. This has got to be a joke or something. I’m telling you. Throw away any other ones, I’m serious.” With that, y/n walked into her room and slammed the door, she was done with this.
The next day was normal, but y/n wasn’t hopeful that she wouldn’t get another letter, and the next day, the 5th of February, Kira was waiting again with another note.
“You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought.” – Conan Doyle. You are the only thing I can think about lately, you’re in my every thought.
y/n didn’t know what to think anymore. Was this person a freaking psycho stalker? How did they know where I lived? We’re they stalking me?
“Kira, I know that you’re sitting here thinking this is some romantic love story...but what if this is some crazy stalker that now knows where we live? Like what if they break in and kill us in the middle of the night?”
“y/n I think you’re being a little dramatic. I feel like this is someone that has to know you in some way. This is some intense shit.”
“We’re gonna die...watch.” y/n finished, over the anxiety this was causing her.
Two days later, y/n didn’t have class. She was going back and forth from the front door, to her room. She was stuck between being excited and worried. Half of her believed that this was some kind of cruel joke, the other half thought maybe someone actually did like her. By 4 o’clock, she thought maybe that it was over, but as she made her way out of there room, there was a note by the door.
"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back." - Plato. This one may be corny, but it’s true, I feel this with you.
This definitely sounded like someone that knew her. But how could she be so oblivious? How could there be someone this into her and she had no idea. That’s why she still believed that this could be a joke. Like clockwork, two days later she got another note.
“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” – Dr. Seuss. I swear since I started these notes, I haven’t been able to sleep at all. I know this is probably starting to creep you out, I promise that you know me and I know you. I’m not a random person.
“I’m sure that this is supposed to make me feel better Kira, but I feel worse. How do I not know this person likes me, if they like me this much?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking from the beginning of this, do you think it could be Stiles?”
“WHAT?” y/n asked incredulously, “Come on, there’s no way. First of all, that would mean he would have to drive a half hour here and back every other day to slip these under the door? There’s no way, that would be crazy.”
“I mean, you guys definitely had something and then suddenly you guys just stopped. You’re still awkward around each other, maybe this is the only way he can get you back?”
“No. Seriously. Stop that’s, that’s. No, that's crazy.” But later that night, what Kira said had gotten the best of y/n. She did something she hadn’t done in a while, she called Stiles.
As soon as he answered, y/n regretted it, “y/n? Are you okay? Did something happen?”
“No, no nothing’s wrong. Sorry, I’m not even sure why I called…...I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize for calling, you know.”
“Yeah, sorry- shit I mean okay. I-I gotta go talk to you later.” And she hung up, she felt so stupid why would she call him? Kira and these damn notes have gotten her head all twisted up. She should know better than to think Stiles could have done this, she was getting her hopes up just thinking about it.
Two days later, y/n could hardly think at work. Her mind was all in a swirl and she kept making mistakes and dropping shit, by the end of her shift she was exhausted. As she had expected, when she got home, Kira was sitting on the couch, holding a new note.
“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.” – Rumi. I haven’t known you forever, but when I met you it was like I had known you my whole life.
“There’s only three days left until Valentine's Day. What’s going to happen? Is this all leading up to something? Or are the notes just going to stop?”
“I guess that’s the fun part!” But when y/n looked at her pointedly she continued, “I know this is freaking you out and giving you anxiety, but this could be a good thing. Whoever it is, really cares about you. And I’m not getting creepy vibes from any of this, if someone was going to break in and kill us, I think they already would have.”
y/n knew that Kira was right, she shouldn’t be so freaked out about this. It didn’t seem like a creepy kind of thing, the notes were sweet and heartfelt, and they definitely, probably would have already been killed. So all y/n could do was wait.
As y/n made her way through the day before Valentine’s hazily, she could barely focus. She kept texting Kira, asking if she had found anything yet. Seeing as she was still in class, she had not. Y/n wanted nothing more than to leave her classes and go to the apartment, but she knew if the note wasn’t there yet, she would get even more impatient. So when Kira finally texted her that she got home and there was a note, y/n excused herself from her class and rushed home. Kira was waiting, almost as impatiently as y/n, with the note in her hand!
“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” – Lao Tzu. Meet me at Hilton tomorrow, 7PM, there’ll be a note left at the front desk.
“What? Kira, am I really supposed to just go to this random hotel and meet this random person?”
“I mean they said you know them, so they’re not that random!”
“I know a lot of people! It could be the cute barista that gets my coffee everyday! I technically know him, but would I go into a random hotel room with him? NO.”
“Okay, then I drive you there, and you keep me on the phone. If anything funky happens I’ll run up and save your ass. I think you should go. I see the look in your eyes when you read the notes, you’re excited. I haven’t seen you genuinely excited in a long time.”
Kira had saved my life multiple times, I trusted her, and it was a good plan. I was excited, she was right, I was stupid for thinking that I would get it past her. And I wasn’t exactly defenseless, I had learned to fight through many years of fighting off the supernatural. I decided it couldn't hurt, if anything it would end up a good story to tell one day.
The next day was torture waiting for 7pm. Especially since y/n had no class and only finding an outfit to distract her. y/n called Lydia in the morning, while Lydia had been pissed that she’d only just heard about this, she insisted on y/n video chatting her to pick an outfit. Together, they had decided on a blush pink dress, with a small flower design. There was a belt that tied right under the chest, that accentuated the top of y/n’s body and flowed down nicely to a little above the knee. They picked out black kitten heels, which according to Lydia, y/n should have already had. It was 4:30 when she got home, already ready to start her makeup to keep her distracted. Kira helped her do her hair nicely and put on minimal makeup, to highlight her best features. By 6, y/n was ready to get in the car, but the drive was only 15 minutes. Kira tried to distract her with finding things to fix, like an out of place hair, or too much highlight. At 6:30, she couldn’t distract her anymore and they got in the car. She drove slowly, constantly trying to hit red lights. Although, y/n had noticed, she pretended not, too.
Freaking out at 6:50, y/n got out of the car by the entrance. Looking at Kira who gave her a thumbs up, y/n walked in and to the front desk.
“Hi, um, I was told there was a note going to be left for me here?”
“Ahh, you must be y/n, yes?” The desk attendant said to me, smiling brightly.
“Yes, that is me!” I said, nervously.
“Here is the note, don’t be so nervous. I think you’ll like what is waiting for you!”
She looked at the note that looked the same as all the other ones. The note said:
Go to hotel room #33.
y/n double checked that Kira was still on the phone and went up the elevator to the correct floor. She walked up to the door, but was hesitant to knock. It took her a full minute and many deep breaths to finally knock. When the door opened, she gasped at what she saw.
“Stiles?” She asked incredulously.
“Hi, y/n. I was nervous you weren’t going to come.”
y/n looked down at her phone to see that Kira had already hung up, “I-I, the notes were you the whole time?”
“Yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to do it. I was freaking out about the whole thing. I know things got messed up before and honestly, I don’t even know why. I didn’t want to mess up again, and I just thought this was the best way to get you to see that I was sorry.”
Y/n took a minute to look around the room. There were two queen beds, both covered in rose petals. There was a small, pink and red bag on one of them. There were actually rose petals everywhere. There were small candles lit all over the room, lights turned down. There was a bottle of champagne on ice and room service on a trolley that contained y/f/flowers in a beautiful vase. It was beautiful honestly, and clearly took a lot of thought.
“y/n?” Stiles started, as she had not said anything after his confession.
“I’m sorry, it’s- I mean this is beautiful. It’s amazing honestly. I can’t believe you did all of this.”
“I’ve loved you for a long time y/n. And I don’t know how exactly we got all fucked up, but I was nervous and scared about what would come to us when school started. I’ve wanted to tell you everyday since that whatever was going on was stupid and that we should be together, but I never could get it out and I’m sorry.” Stiles was nervous, not sure y/n felt the same.
“I don’t know what happened either, if I’m being honest..I felt the same. Scared and nervous. I’ve literally made myself miserable everyday, knowing that I should have done something about what happened. I love you. I’m sorry too, that I didn’t do anything to fix whatever happened. I knew from the moment I met you, that we were meant to be more than just friends.”
Stiles couldn’t hold back after he heard y/n’s confession, his feelings had been overwhelming for so long. He walked closer to her, placed his hand on her face gently, and placed his lips on hers. At first, it was sweet and slow, but y/n moved her hands to the back of his head, pulling him closer. When they both ran out of breath, they pulled away smiling at each other.
“Can I ask you a question?” y/n spoke first.
“Of course, anything.” Stiles answered.
“Why are there two beds?” y/n wiggled her eyebrows.
Stiles face turned red and his hand went to rub his chin, “I well, I mean I didn’t want to-uh...I didn’t want to assume anything, I just, I didn’t want to mess anything else.”
“Well I don’t think we’ll be needing it.” y/n said and pulled Stiles back to her, placing her lips on his again.
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paper-n-ashes · 3 years
Text
New Endeavours
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Characters: Modern AU!Kylo Ren x Female Reader
Words: 2k
Warnings/Tags: Explicit (18+), Sugar daddy relationship, sexual references but no actual smut, bisexual vibes, attending a strip club.
Author’s Note: This is all because of my love, @maryforyou. An AU venture she ignited and I couldn’t let go of. Read into this however you want, I’m an open book in terms of exploring sexuality without labels. Being the first AU I’ve ever attempted, I kept this as an intro, to hopefully dive into the more explicit content I’ve been ruminating on for too long as a Part 2 (depending on how this is received).
*
“Are you sure this what you want?”
You smiled sweetly, smoothing out the creases in your dress as Kylo handed you your coat and gloves. “Like I said every day this week, I’m very sure.”
He still appeared doubtful, plush lips twisted in a disbelieving frown. “I could give you anything your heart desires for your birthday, princess,” he urged, helping you to secure the top buttons of your waistcoat, his large frame shifting close to yours. “This barely seems like enough of a gift for such a special occasion.”
Kylo was used to showering you with physical symbols of his adoration in the 18 months you had known him. The man had more money than he knew what to do with, lavishing all types of jewellery and clothing on you, some of the pieces you were certain cost more than your tiny apartment in the outskirts of the city. Every time you tried to refuse the extravagant gifts, Kylo always replied with sweetened notions of needing to worship and adore the personified goddess he saw you as. And when spoken in his infuriatingly mesmerising tenor, they would quickly conquer your resistance.
You were acutely aware of what this looked like from an outside perspective. A wealthy older man courting a young woman over 10 years his junior. Bathing her head to toe in the finest attire, parading her around in places a woman of her standing wouldn’t have been able to afford in two lifetimes.
A label came with this kind of behaviour. One you didn’t particularly like, yet was still true.
Sugar daddy.
There wasn’t a way you could deny that’s how your association with Kylo begun.
You’d heard whispers of other girls at the college you went to doing it. Offering their bodies to the affluent men of this city. At first, you’d scoffed at the idea. But when that third overdue notice of your credit card debt came, with the threat of eviction hanging over your head, you didn’t really have much choice.
A name was given to you of a bar that specialised in these kinds of meetings, completely covertly of course. And there Kylo had found you, hiding away in a secluded corner, stirring the gin and tonic in front of you with a single finger. At first, you’d assumed he was a well-dressed bartender, seemingly too young and strikingly handsome to be in need of a place like this. So you smiled sweetly and told him you weren’t quite done with your drink.
Within such an innocent interaction, Kylo knew he had to have you. And he did, 45 minutes later in the poorly lit bathroom stall, half-dressed bodies clutched together as he had you perch on the porcelain sink, fucking you with an uncharacteristically reckless abandon.
He hadn’t intended to. He hadn’t been entirely sure what he anticipated from that evening, the recommendation being given to him from a higher executive who regularly partook in the questionable operations of this establishment. Kylo meant only to scope the place out, sit for a quiet solitary drink out of the way of other patrons. There, he’d discovered you.
Shrinking into your stool, somewhat inhibited, clearly out of your element. The shy smile that spread across your face after he murmured a stiff hello ensnared him in moments, simply for how sincere it was. He wasn’t used to that.
Another thing Kylo wasn’t used to was the type of electricity that followed in your conversation. Rarely had he experienced an exchange that was so charged yet… genuine. You didn’t appear expectant, didn’t care to know how much money he made or the status of his career. You simply wanted to talk.
It was interesting how this fuelled an urge to make you speechless, to have you resorting to whines and whimpers rather than articulate your thoughts with any words. He didn’t act on them. Content to bide his time, play his cards right, set a precedence of composure and restraint in the hope of securing another meeting. You, however, had never cultivated the same type of discipline Kylo had.
After too many long minutes of flirtatious banter, you leaned forward, mouthing in a hushed tone, asking him to meet you in the women’s bathroom.
The chance encounter had bound you for longer than predicted.
Although never explicitly stated, the two of you fulfilled a portion of each other’s needs. Kylo required adequate distraction from his corporate life, someone who could slip into his erratic schedule with ease to… relieve him of mounting tension. In return, he provided you the monetary means to live in the city of your dreams without constant fear of homelessness.
In the months that passed, your arrangement turned into something stable, secure. His presence a constant in your life. While his working hours were long and finishing times unpredictable, Kylo could always count on you to be summoned to him from a single text message. Be it in the middle of the day, or the early hours of morning, you would race to a place of his choosing. Sometimes at his lush apartment, sometimes his office, and a plethora of restaurant bathrooms across the city after particularly stressful business lunches.
Initially, your involvement was kept mostly out of public view. Kylo had wanted to protect you from the judgements and negative connotations that were unavoidable in the arena of his work. Around the year mark, these reservations about being seen with you seemed to dissipate. Soon you were linked hand in hand at countless high-class dinners and charity events. A poised and elegant couple, right until the last set of eyes moved away.
This is where you had your fun.
As spectacular as Kylo was at fucking you until you saw stars, he’d surprisingly gone this long in life without venturing into more creative territory when it came to satisfaction. His version of sex was fast and hard, needing as much as you as he could get, chasing release with no frills or diversion. He’d never had the time, or the right lover, to encourage any of his deeply hidden fantasies. Until you.
You were game for anything. Sexually adventurous. Ready and willing to try all there was on offer just to elicit the highest levels of ecstasy. It was difficult not to be at the thought of Kylo’s hands, his mouth, his tongue, any part of him.
Although a little more slowly, he began to welcome new experiences, new pursuits of pleasure. Witnessing your reactions to these efforts became somewhat of an addiction for him. The way you writhed and squealed when exploring anal play for the first time. The way you surrendered and adored his verbal degradation and physical strikes. The way your body twitched and spasmed after the use of a newly obtained toy purchased with his platinum credit card.
You never pushed him, or forced him into anything he found uncomfortable in the chase of a sexual high. Communication was paramount, and boundaries were respected.
Interestingly enough, tonight was a boundary he never thought you’d cross.
“This is what I asked for, remember?” you smiled, taking the opportunity to press a gentle kiss to his nose.
Kylo’s apprehension refused to dissipate, while still clutching you closer. “It just… seems like this is something I will enjoy more than you.”
You barely withheld the urge to roll your eyes. “You’re sure about that, are you?”
His eyebrows crinkled, thinking the question over. There was the hint of a smirk that tugged the corner of his mouth, a subtle excited quiver in the breath he exhaled. “So you’re not doing this for me?”
“Not at all,” you breathed. Your palm slipped under his clean-shaven jaw, skating a thumb reassuringly over his cheek. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”
“You have?”
You hummed a yes, drifting your lips intoxicatingly close to his, staring up with wide eyes.
Kylo’s mouth twisted slightly. “I wouldn’t want you to feel jealous, princess.”
“You’re only looking,” you insisted softly. “And, even if you touch a little…” You bit your lip at the thought. “Those women won’t be who gets to be taken home and fucked until it hurts.”
There was a noticeable tensing in the arms circled around you, as Kylo’s eyes began to burn with an impatient greed. “I could do that now, right against this door.”
It was difficult to deny how you’d happily allow him to make true on that statement. To slam you into the exquisitely carved oak door of his apartment and fill you to your absolute limit. However, the tantalising image of your planned evening was too consuming, heaving and tugging for you to indulge a deeply embedded desire you’d never been brave enough to pursue.
“Save it for when we get home,” you chirped, reaching for the doorhandle and dragging Kylo into the hallway.
 *
“Follow me,” the maître D instructed, her voice cheerfully welcoming. Even the sight of her silken, green dress was intimidating, the fabric glossing over her nimble shape as she guided you up the set of stairs. The lighting was low, almost too dark to see properly, Kylo’s grip strong as your steps were drowned out by the sultry music emanating behind the double doors at the apex. As they were opened to you, the hypnotic baseline ricocheted around your body.
You scanned around the large room, bold lights illuminating a risen stage with two currently unused silver poles at either corner. Plush chairs circled around, occupied by a differing array of men. Slinking between the patrons were women decorated with luxurious, high-end lingerie, each one styled and set to provoke unyielding temptation.
This was a completely new undertaking for you. Attending a strip club. Usually a male endeavour, seeking out instant gratification in the form of scantily clad bodies and paid attention. You knew this was an unusual request for a birthday outing, yet in truth there was nothing from Kylo you wanted more.
The two reasons were somewhat opposing, although they would still feed the same goal. Satisfying a craving.
One being that you had always found women to be alluring and captivating to a height you’d never really accepted, almost been afraid of. Only with time and maturity had you learned your attraction to them was a natural occurrence you were now ready to explore.
The other reason was a little more scandalous, and what you hadn’t quite articulated to Kylo yet. To have the view of his eyes roaming another woman’s almost naked body as she exposed herself to him, drove you wild. In a situation you should feel jealousy, you were only devoured by an uncontainable lust.
Occasionally your mind had forayed into imaginations where he would take another like he’d taken you countless times, able to watch his hands clawing at supple breasts, the smooth motion of his hips, how his thick cock would split a tight, dripping cunt in two. All the while he would deride and goad you, layering you with taunts, desperate to inflame your envy and ownership.
Your plan for this particular evening didn’t extend that far. You only wished to enjoy the performance of mesmeric women in their most enchanting form, observe Kylo’s undeniable arousal at the same lithe, flexible bodies, and return home to remind him that only you could ignite the billowing flames of a violent release.
Oh, but that plan crumbled when you’d each settled into your seats, just in time for the next show of seduction. A pair of glittered, platform heels slinked near to the pole closest to you, your vision roaming upwards over the statuesque figure they connected to. Delicately laced, ivory fabric shielded her most intimate portions from full view, conforming flawlessly to the curves of her figure. Somehow demure yet indecently sensual.
Lips parted, your breath hitched as the exquisite woman twirled around, her eyes trained to you as she let a wicked smile appear. You were sure this was a regular occurrence, a flirtation she expressed to all the patrons in this room. Yet, as she began to move in time with the decadent beat of the music, her eyes stayed transfixed to you marvelling stare.
In an unprecedented display of courage, you beckoned Kylo closer to you, whispering to his ear. “Her. That’s what I really want for my birthday.”
*To be continued*
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everlarkficexchange · 3 years
Text
Like The Stars Hold The Moon
Written By : @katnissmellarkkkk
Prompt 59 :  "Katniss dad is a victor, he won his hunger games and is a mentor. Peeta is reaped for the games and Katniss begs her dad to help him win the games. [submitted by anonymous]“
Hi! It feels like there’s so much I need to say here and I can’t remember any of it now! This is obviously–if you read the summary, which I assume you did and that’s why you’re here hahaha–an EFE prompt. It was submitted by an anonymous person, so I don’t know specifically if this is what you wanted but I really hope this is good enough that you’ll be fulfilled?
I don’t think there is much more to say? I hope everyone who reads this has a good day! I wrote plenty of this on Easter so I’d like to thank Jesus for rising again. And I feel like the prompt alone is a sufficient summary but just so you know, this heavily features Katniss, Peeta (obvi), Haymitch and Katniss’ father, Hunter (I named him, that’s not canon, I know).
This fic I likely going to be a three-shot with an opportunity for a sequel three-shot. Oh and also, thank you to the anon who sent the prompt!
Oh and this got really long, so I’m just going to submit the first part on here and then I’ll add a link at the bottom to continue reading on AO3. I’ve never done this before so I don’t know if I’m doing it right?
Okay, if you read all my talking, bye now!
Rated T for the canon violence. 
At the reaping for the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games, Matty Knick drew out the names of a ”very special boy“ and ”a very special girl“ from the reaping bowls. She read them off in a bright voice and matched the sentiment with an out of place perky smile. The girl’s name was Heather Branch.
And the boy’s was Hunter Everdeen.
Of course, everyone knows the story of Hunter Everdeen.
/
Year of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games.
"So Hunter,” Caesar Flickerman leans toward the victor, absolutely electrified, and says, “tell us, tell us. How excited are you for the games this year?”
The camera focuses in on gray eyes, the color of a storm cloud or a cleanly polished knife. Dangerous and hard and cunning.
Or protective and frightful and angry.
Or warm and loving and kind.
“I’m about as excited as I always am, Caesar,” he shoots back, not a trace of even so much as a smirk on his face. Not even so much as a lift from the corner of his mouth.
And still, the crowd of Capitol idiots burst out in laughter, as if they just heard the funniest joke in the world, as if this was Hunter’s desired response to the words.
As if the conversation wasn’t about teenagers—and some as young as twelve—killing other teenagers.
“And what about you, Haymitch?” Caesar asks next, segueing from one aggravated man to another.
“I’m looking forward to the free drinks,” Haymitch says while tipping back dark gold colored liquid into his mouth. Almost as an afterthought, he gestures wide and sloppy to the crowd, igniting cacophonous sounds from the population once more. “And of course, the social interaction with all you lovely people.”
No one in the audience recognizes the insult. No one understands the blatant sarcasm at their expense.
Here in District Twelve though, we do. As exemplified by Peeta’s laugh, vibrating against my back. “Shh,” I hush, laser focused on the enormous television screen before us.
“Daddy’s not speaking anymore,” Prim reminds me from the other room, where she’s currently flipping through a magazine our father sent.
“Well, be quiet before he does,” I snap, elbowing Peeta when he rolls his eyes now. “Stop it, I haven’t seen him in weeks,” I complain, fixing him with a fierce glare.
“I know,” he murmurs agreeably, gently kissing my temple. “But he’ll be home in a few days.”
As if they could hear our exchange from inside the television box, Caesar turns his attention back to my father. “Hunter, how excited are you to get home to District Twelve?”
At that, his eyes genuinely light up with ferocity. “I’m counting the minutes,” he replies, but still manages to keep his tone cool. He adamantly refuses to give away his true emotion to even a single soul in the Capitol. It’s his way of withholding power from their greedy, glitter covered hands.
But I see the change in him. Prim, from her position against the doorframe, sees it. I’m positive my mother, who’s watching with our brother from the comfort of our house sees it as well.
Our father’s eyes are now alive again, the permanent frown his mouth resides in on every televised appearance loosens a bit, his brows aren’t knit so closely together any longer.
Caesar Flickerman sees the change too evidently.
“Look at those silver coins!” He bellows, gesturing for the cameras to put my father in a close up now. “They just lit up like the stars when talking about home. Tell me, Hunter Everdeen, how’s the family back in District Twelve?”
At that, my father makes a considerable effort to transform his entire expression into a mask of indifference. “They’re good,” he states evenly, his tone clipped. Making it blatant to even the airheaded Capitol citizens that he refuses to speak publicly about his family.
“Because you’re not property of the Capitol, baby,” he told me once, while on a walk in the woods. “You’re not anyone’s property.”
“What about you and mommy?”
“You’re our responsibility, but not our property.” He’d knelt down to my height, which happened to be the shortest in my second grade class. “Property implies ownership, Katniss. And no one owns you. No one owns you or your sister. Remember that for me. And never let yourself forget it.”
“You’re daughters are both old enough for the reaping, am I right?” Caesar presses further, and my sister and I automatically sigh. Knowing the response that’s bound to come.
“What’s wrong?” Peeta asks, as he still remains completely clueless. I shake my head instead of offering an explanation though, leaning further into his chest.
Peeta won’t understand. He was raised in town by merchants—the owners of the bakery, to be specific. He’s never understood the fierce protectiveness, the instantaneous fury, the irrational tunnel vision, that appears when a victor’s child is mentioned entering the games.
Peeta’s never even met my father. I’m not impatient by any stretch of the imagination to put the two of them in the same room, to watch my father chew my boyfriend up and devour him alive, to abide by his rules and regulations that will surely come with dating.
He doesn’t know Peeta and I have even so much as shaken hands. I’ve never so much as left him even the slightest hint. Not even when I’ve accompanied him to the bakery for the occasional trade with Peeta’s father, the baker himself.
Like both Prim and I predicted, our father is now on edge, his breathing uneven and his nostrils flaring. “Yes. Both my girls are of age,” he says after a long beat, his tone hard and jagged.
Caesar though is either oblivious or is extraordinarily practiced at appearing obtuse. “Well, wouldn’t it be something if either of them were chosen for the games? Am I right?” He directs his questions to the audience. “Don’t we all love a family story?” His words elicit cheers and hollers and a murderous glint in my father’s silver eyes. The camera only catches it for a moment’s time before quickly flitting away, towards the much more enjoyable image of the Captiolites chattering like chipmunks at the very idea.
And suddenly I feel Peeta’s arm tighten around me, the vision of me—the only person in the world he’s certain that he loves—being taken away from our home here in Twelve and tossed into an arena with kids twice her size, too much for even his naïve mind.
“Don’t we all believe in Mr. Everdeen,” the talk show host continues to push and I feel my typical annoyance with the odd man bleed into anger. “I mean, he brought home Mr. Abernathy here.” And with one single hand gesture from Caesar, the entire interview’s focus re-centers on Haymitch.
And unlike my father, he doesn’t even miss a beat before replying.
“Barely,” he mutters with a last swig of his drink, cleaning the glass. “And he was stingy with the gifts.”
Next to him, my father relaxes a bit. Haymitch always brings out a bit of levity in him, even on his worst days.
After all, in my father’s eyes, the paunchy drunk is a symbol of hope.
Haymitch is the only person my father’s ever brought him. He’s the only other living victor inside the confines of Twelve.
Not to mention his closest friend.
And my surrogate uncle, I note, a bit ironically. Haymitch and I have a far different relationship than he has with anyone else in my family but he’s always been there, has known me since the day I was born, often has dinner at our house, rain or shine, no matter how much he annoys my mother, and he’s an irreplaceable member of my family.
The audience is still riled up from Haymitch and howling with laughter—a bit too much, in my opinion—but my father can’t let the subject of his children go before adding one last sentiment.
“Don’t worry, Caesar. If either of my girls are reaped, trust me,” he states, louder and far more pronounced than anything else he’s said the entire interview. “They will be the victor. There’s not a tribute in the arena that would survive against my girl.”
/
For as long as I can remember, my father had taken me to the woods. He sometimes claims the first time he looked down at me in my mother’s arms, at a mere two days old, he saw a familiar hunger in my eyes.
Not a hunger for food. District Twelve is the smallest and the poorest in the country of Panem, but luckily, my family is one of the richest.
Unlike my schoolmates, I’ve never once had to worry about having enough to eat for lunch. My parents never worried that we’d starve to death or that Prim and I could be taken from their grasp by authorities. They never worried about supplying us with whatever we needed—they gave us more than we ever could have wanted—and they never had to fret that we’d be sent to the mines for work one day.
No, we were far too wealthy and far too famous for any of that.
But my parents had a far different batch of worries to keep them up at night. Not about food or finances or anything remotely common in Twelve.
No, they had to worry about cameras peaking into the privacy of our home and photos being taken without our knowledge and my face or Prim’s face being splashed across every magazine and newspaper in the country.
They worried about the almost insatiable thirst the Capitol seems to have for more family dynamics among the victors.
Especially after the recent back-to-back sibling victories led the hunger games to higher ratings and revenues in the Capitol.
When I was a child, my mother coached me to never go into town without my father by my side. Which sounds easy enough, until my father’s extensive vacations to the Capitol are taken into consideration. For as long as I can remember, my father would leave at random stretches of time, for weeks on end. To go play puppet for a population so dumb, so completely isolated from the rest of the country, that they took his anger for sarcasm. They took his bite as charm. They believed his glare was an act, was part of his appeal, when in reality my father had rebelled against performing for the last twenty-seven years.
When he was gone, our lives became strict. Bedtimes came earlier, curtains remained drawn day in and day out, our mother never wanted to sing or dance or even so much as smile with her husband gone.
But when he was home, sunshine peaked in our windows again. It danced on the floor and it swept us away with its gentle affection.
There was music and laughter and sweets and toys. He never returned from the Capitol empty-handed. He brought back expensive jewels for our mother, he built me and Prim a fancy treehouse in the backyard, put up a large, golden swing-set, went as far as purchasing as many cakes and breads as he could hold from the Mellark Bakery.
Peeta’s parents bakery.
Since I was two, further back than I can even retain, my father would take me out to the woods, would hold my hand and tell me old stories of District Twelve’s past, detail insane urban legends, teach me about plants and berries and trees and the direction of the wind.
And for as long as I can remember, I idolized him. He was so confident and so charismatic and so kind. For as long as I could remember, I wanted to be exactly like him when I grew up. It felt like an honor to me that I received far more his end of the gene line than my mother’s. She was regarded as a beauty in her youth, but he was one of the most magnificent people in the country. Having his coloring and the same silver eyes felt like a special gift, awarded every single time someone marveled at how similar we appear.
But my father was gone often and the unpredictable lengths of his stays in the large, foreign city was one of the only constants my family ever knew. So it really came as no surprise when my mother phoned the cabin only minutes after Caesar’s interview was over.
“I’ll get it,” Prim says flatly after a moment, throwing a sardonic glance at me and Peeta on the couch. Now in a much different entanglement than we had been while watching the talk-show.
“Thanks,” I murmur unintelligibly against Peeta’s mouth, before closing my eyes in pleasure.
“Don’t strain yourselves,” she can’t stop herself from tacking on the end.
“We’ll try not to while you’re still here,” Peeta murmurs cheekily, moving his lips downwards, towards my neck, right onto my pulse point. I let out a somewhat ridiculous squeak in response.
“Hello?” Prim says lightly into the receiver, already knowing it’s our mother. No one else calls this phone, inside this hidden cabin, located in the woods surrounding Twelve.
The woods in which officials fenced off years ago. The woods in which it’s illegal to enter. The woods in which my father has taken me to hunt for families less fortunate than ours since I was a small infant.
It’s not a typical cabin found in the outskirts of Twelve. No, ordinarily a cabin out here—a cabin anywhere in Panem, really—is nothing more than a broken down shack. There’s normally nothing other than an unsteady foundation, a freezing damp floor and an unlit fireplace.
But somewhere along the lines, in the years before I was born, my parents resurrected this place from the depths of despair and expanded it, rebuilt it, refurnished and redecorated and turned it into a vast, warm, safe second home for all of us to run away to when we felt the need.
Prim listens into the receiver for a long moment before she sighs deeply and beckons me. “Katniss, can you?”
Instantly, I break away from Peeta’s embrace, cupping his face and pulling him back from my collarbone.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I scramble off the couch, my anxiety abruptly spiked. “Did something happen?” I search Prim’s eyes as I take the phone from her but, to my utter relief, all I find there is blatant, unmasked disappointment.
I already know what my mother is going to say before I put the phone to my ear. “Hi?”
“Hi, honey,” she murmurs, her voice both strained and higher than typical. Which indicates she’s trying to put up a front for us right now, when she’d rather be moping in bed. “Your father just called. Evidently Effie Trinket informed him he has more scheduled commitments to fulfill before he can come home.”
I deflate, already prepard, knowing this was coming. Isn’t it always coming inadvertently? My father has never been home when he was scheduled to be in my life. No matter the holiday, the birthday, the emergency or event, the Capitol demands that they comes first to him. Not even my birth could upstage his commitments. He wasn’t allowed to return home to Twelve, to meet his firstborn child, until his press events were done and over with.
It’s no wonder he refuses to put on show for those people.
“Okay,” I mumble after a moment, not even convinced my mother is even still there on the other end.
“It’ll be alright,” she says, as positively as she can. “He’ll be home as soon.”
“Yeah.” I try and fail miserably to match her tone. I inherited my father’s ability to act. Or inability, that is.
There’s the faint sound of crying in the background, and my heart aches a bit. “I’m sorry, honey, I have to go check on Archer,” she apologizes as a way of saying goodbye.
I make my way into the kitchen as soon as we hang up. Prim is standing by the counter, staring at the same magazine our father sent three weeks ago.
Peeta comes up behind me then, his hand rubbing my back in comforting circles. “Your father delayed again?”
I nod silently, as my eyes focused on my little sister now. She’s trying her best to hold back the upset that’s threatening to take over.
And without hesitation, my instincts to protect my family from anything and everything painful kick in. “Prim, it’s okay. It’s probably only going to be another week before he’s back,” I console, stepping closer to her small frame and touching her back.
It’s all the initiation she needs before spinning around into my arms and clinging onto me tight. “He’s never around,” she cries into my neck—I’m not much taller than her—as her shoulders shake with tears.
I feel Peeta’s eyes on me, measuring my reaction to Prim’s words. He’s heard me cry the same thing time and time again, he knows the familiarity of this scene better than anyone should.
“He tries his best, Prim,” I whisper thickly into her long, blonde hair. She’s fair and light, like our mother. Like a merchant or peacekeeper. Looking at my little sister, you’d never consider her to be the daughter of a man from the Seam.
But you’d easily believe that she was a girl raised in Victor’s Village and I suppose that’s what counts. Where we were raised and not where we could have been, if things had gone different.
“He’s never really going to be ours though,” she weeps and I don’t have words to comfort her now. Because she’s right.
Our father will always belong to the Capitol, first and foremost.
And not even his children can upstage that.
/
Prim leaves not long later, to head home to Victor’s Village and more than likely curl up with our mother for the night. They’ve both always been so alike, so much softer and more hopeful than me. I half expect every trip of our father’s to double in time, if not triple. After a lifetime of disappointments, I can’t help but prepare myself.
It’s not that they’re weak for believing. It’s that I have too much Hunter Everdeen in me. I have too much pessimism crawling inside my bones to ever fully trust that he’s really coming home until he’s already stepped off the train in Twelve.
Too many hours of my childhood were spent, wearing fancy stockings and warm, fur-lined coats, standing at the train station, only to welcome a load of cargo and no father in sight. Too many times were phone calls answered in tears. Too many night spent crying, clinging to my father’s hunting jacket, so disoriented by the hazardous schedule in which our lives were ran, waiting for my father to phone, waiting for him to walk through the front door, waiting for him to sneak up on us in the middle of the night or pull us from class on a school day.
That was the true constant in my life. Waiting for my father to finally come home, knowing every moment we shared was on borrowed time. Knowing that he’d never truly belong to us. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting to hear my mother’s bedroom door slam and lock, waiting to hear Prim cry or Archer wail, waiting to see that defeated glint in my father’s slate gaze.
I close the cabin door behind my sister now, knowing with confidence that she’ll make it home alright, even with the sun currently setting in the faded blue sky.
Our father never took Prim hunting like he did me, never brought her out to the woods and taught her to shoot a bow and arrow, never showed her how to trap and kill an animal. But even still, the path from the cabin to our home in Victor’s Village is imprinted in our brains, like a birthmark or tattoo. We’d be able to find our way to and from, even if we were sleepwalking.
As would Peeta. Considering this is the place he spends the majority of his time.
Considering this cabin may as well be his permanent address.
And if it weren’t illegal, it very well might be, I think to myself wryly as I walk over to where he’s leaning against the doorframe now.
“Hello,” I greet again, hopping onto my tiptoes and kissing his lips lightly.
He grasps my hips, smiling against my mouth. “Don’t you have to get home too?” He hesitantly asks, his desire to keep me here bleeding through every caress of his fingers, as they trail underneath my loose shirt, sliding upwards and causing an electric current to ripple through the core of my body.
But I just shake my head at his inquiry, moving my mouth from his to kiss down the side of his face, underneath his jawline.
“Mmm,” he moans after a long moment, before suddenly putting a few more inches between us. “Are you sure your mother won’t miss you?”
Peeta’s always been considerate of my mother. Too considerate sometimes, if I do say so myself. Bordering on obsessive.
He is obsessed with keeping her approval, with never crossing any invisible line, with never even so much as mildly exasperating her.
I suppose it’s only natural though. She is the only parental figure he has in his life.
I’ve never been too enthusiastic to introduce him to my father and he’s never pushed the issue too far. Hunter Everdeen is a practical legend around Twelve—and beloved across the entirety of Panem—but he’s the reason, I’ve always privately felt, that I was isolated from all my classmates.
Sure, I’m already not the most friendly person to start with, in anyone’s book. As Haymitch never hesitates to tell me. But there was already very little chance of me making friends in school anyway. Being the victor of the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games’ child dropped the chances of play-dates or sleepovers drastically. My father trusts no one. Not with his children.
And I didn’t mind for the most part. I’m too like him to enjoy people much anyway. This whole notion was much harder on Prim, who adored her fellow classmates and easily endeared herself to them as well. But no matter how darling my little sister may be, nothing changed our father’s mind and when he was set on something, it was practically written in stone.
I can’t even imagine how Peeta must feel, having to live in fear for the entire last year of our little secret being exposed. I may be nervous about how my father will react, but Peeta has to be outright petrified.
“My mother will be fine,” I murmur, rolling my eyes as I lean back against the wall now. “She’s got Prim and Archie to keep her sane until my father’s home.”
Peeta chuckles at me, a mirthful smile in his eyes. “And you got me,” he teases, tapping my nose with his finger.
I giggle in a way I withheld until Prim left. I wasn’t about to give her ammunition to mock me later on. “All to myself,” I add, matching his expression now. “For unlimited hours of the day.”
“That’s my girl, looking on the bright side.”
I snort. “Yeah, that’s me.” I’m the exact opposite of an optimist. I prefer expecting the worse and setting expectations low. Maybe it’s a learned behavior but, at least that way, I’m not crushed like my mother when things don’t pan out the way I want.
Peeta mistakes the look on my face to be one of hidden disappointment. “You’re father will be home soon, sweetheart. They can’t keep him in the Capitol forever.”
“Can’t they?” I mumble, not expecting an answer. Before he can offer one—because Peeta is nothing if not a fixer—I quickly segue to a new topic. “Where do you think you’ll go when my father does come home?”
He just shrugs the question off though, completely unbothered. “Anywhere but home,” he says simply, his stunning blue eyes clear as the sky they remind me of.
“Anywhere but there,” I agree, my smile twisting into a grimace.
/
A year ago, when I was barely fifteen, President Snow—Panem’s true Gamemaker, my father always said—demanded every victor extend their stay in the Capitol, even after the games ended that year. He gave no outright reason and my father was cagey to speak on the subject, but in the end, the president’s word was law and there was no room for argument. President Snow can demand of us whatever he wishes.
It was a cold, dreary autumn that year, with early snowfall, which was the leading cause to the significant increase in accidents and injuries. My mother, the born healer, had more patients than she could handle, and even while training Prim as her assistant, she required my help. I was to head to town and purchase a list of herbs from the apothecary shop her parents still owned. The people who disowned her, who had little to no interest in her after she married a man from the Seam, victor or not. The people who never cared to meet their own grandchildren, to acknowledge our existence even as we passed right by their shop, in their plain sight.
I was dragging my feet the entire walk there, already with a sour taste in my mouth, when I heard the loudest wail my ears had every registered. When I heard sharp words being screamed out, when the sound of a boy sobbing filled the air.
And my instincts took over, my every sense focused on finding the hurt and helping them, altogether forgoing the trip for my mother’s herbs.
I followed the commotion to the bakery’s backdoor. Right through the open threshold, it was crystal clear, the baker’s wife—the witch, as many of the kids at school referred to her—had beaten her youngest son senselessly.
He’s in my year, I’d realized abruptly, staring with an agape mouth at his bloody face. His eye was swelling and his nose and lip were smeared scarlet and the only thing that crossed my mind at first, was I recognized him as the blonde boy with the colorful notebook, who could never meet my eyes and always wore long sleeves.
Of course, I snapped out of the daze after only a moment. The witch turned and caught sight of me, snapping that no Seam brat was going to get any free handouts from her and to scatter before she called the Peacekeepers.
Something about the unmasked prejudice against the Seam, a place where people in Twelve had next to nothing and were seen as lesser than the merchants, jolted me into action.
“Get your hand off him!” I’d demanded, using my entire body weight, just as my father taught me, to push the door open as she tried to close it in my face. “Let him go or I swear I’ll make you regret it.”
At that, I heard an ugly laugh and the door flew open again, my exerted force throwing it back into the wall.
“I’m serious, child,” she snaps, her blue eyes narrow and her mouth in a snide smirk. “I will call the Peacekeepers to remove you from my shop-”
I didn’t even let her finish. I wasn’t one to be messed with. Not when I just witnessed something awful firsthand, not when I had it in my power to do something.
I knew then I couldn’t bring my father home. He was owned by the president and the Capitol. To an extent, we all were. And I knew I couldn’t stop the games from happening or the possibility of my name being pulled from the reaping bowl. I couldn’t always make my mother come out of her room or even out of her bed, when her illness struck bad. And I couldn’t stop my siblings from crying for our father at night.
But I knew that day in the bakery, I had the power over Mrs. Mellark and I wasn’t going to let her get away with hurting her son anymore.
“Call them,” I dared, not an ounce of insecurity in my voice. “Cray is an old family friend.” He was actually indebted to my father, who’d kept the man’s secrets for too many years to count. But family friend rolled off the tongue more effectively.
“Head Peacekeeper is now making friends in the Seam?” She spat in disbelief. “No wonder this district is so rundown.”
She laughed humorlessly, but my focus was pulled towards the boy. He was covering the left side of his face, as if it hurt too badly to release. As if he was trying to stop his eye from swelling, stop his nose from gushing blood. As if he could hold his now split lip together with nothing more than the palm of his hand.
The sight hurt my heart to see. It burned a fire inside of me that only a true injustice could set alight.
“My father is Hunter Everdeen,” I snapped in the woman’s direction, not even basking in satisfaction when her face drained of all color. The idea that a scrappy little girl with olive skin and dark hair was the child of the most powerful man in all of Twelve struck a cord inside even the witch. “Still wanna make that call?”
The woman’s face was caught between anger and shock when I glanced at her again. And I hated her for it. I hated her and every single person in this district who hurt their kids, who took out their grievances on them, who made them cower and quiver in fear. Who raised them to be afraid of those they loved in a world already so awful.
I know I live a privileged life but, deep in my bones, I know even if things were different, my parents wouldn’t have laid a hand on us. Even if we were so poor I had to take tesserae, even if we were starving to the point of no return, even if we were practically homeless in the Seam, my parents would never hurt us.
“Leave,” the witch spoke then, but her voice was void of all emotion.
“Not without him,” I refused, my eyes planted on the wounded boy in front of me. The boy who was doing everything to avoid looking me in the eye, too busy covering his battered face.
I heard a sound caught between a groan and a shriek, before a cutting board was tossed across the room. “Just go!” She shouted at her son, causing him to flinch severely. “Just go with her!”
On her order, which sounded more distraught than angry, the boy had stormed out the back door and into the chilly evening air, still covering his face desperately, still looking utterly ashamed.
But he waited for me to catch up with him. He waited for me to guide him away from that awful woman he was forced to call his mother.
He didn’t flinch when I touched his arm nor when I took his hand. And when I led him away from the town and towards the village, he followed me without complaint.
Actually, he followed me without a single word.
I realized this just as my house came into view. “You never told me your name?” I whispered, looking up at him gently.
He had tears leaking from his eyes that he was doing his best to ignore, the bleeding on the left side of his face had barely even lightened up, his eye was swelling bigger and bigger, and yet, he chuckled a little at the question. “I’ve been in your class since kindergarten, Katniss.”
I felt my cheeks burn pink, even under the darkening sky. “I know.” But I still peered up at him, curiously waiting for him to tell me.
“It’s Peeta,” he finally answered, maybe a bit satirical.
“Peeta Mellark,” I suddenly recognized.
“Mhmm. Figured you’d pick up the last name.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s printed across the bakery in huge letters?”
“Oh.” He chuckled at my ignorance, causing my blush to deepen.
And I realized immediately how much I liked the sound of his laugh. How I liked being the reason for the sound.
My stomach did a complete flip at the notion and my ears abruptly felt hot, but I tried to push all this away, needing to get him to my mother.
“Wait,” he halted before I could even reached the front door. “Is your mother in there?”
I shot him a confused look. “Yeah, of course? Who else-”
I didn’t even get a chance to finish though. “I really don’t want anyone else to know about this,” he pleads, his eyes looking as frightened as they did with the witch.
“Peeta-” I start, opening my mouth argue, to convince him to go into the house and let my mother treat his injuries. To let me get him help.
But one look inside his desolated, defeated, terrified eyes and I couldn’t make myself do it. I couldn’t put him through any more than he’d already gone through. Not when he’d eventually have to go face the witch again at home.
“Okay,” I whispered, and I felt him squeeze the hand I didn’t realize I was still clutching. “Let me take you somewhere else. And I’ll try to fix you up myself.”
I wasn’t a healer like my mother and Prim. I was a hunter, just like my father, just like his very name, through and through. But I had witnessed enough of what my mother did—my father had forced me to witness enough of what she did, in case I ever needed the knowledge—and I was confident I had the expertise to help him.
My decision was validated by the relief in Peeta’s eyes, by the visible exhale he expelled from inside. He was ashamed, I realized, of his abuse. He was embarrassed to let anyone know what was happening behind closed doors.
I guided him by the hand outside the village, through the Seam—a place in which he’d never been before—and to the fence line.
“Isn’t it electrified?” He asked, his grip on my palm tightening. I liked the sensation for some reason. I liked the way his big hand felt wrapped around my small one. I liked how he wanted to hold onto me in the darkness.
“Nope,” I say, and let out a proud giggle. Or maybe a nervous one. Whenever I think back to this night, I can never tell.
“How do you know?” His blonde eyebrows knit together, still afraid in a way I’d never had to be. My father had taught me everything there was to know about the woods from a young age.
“Listen,” I urge softly, leaning my ear towards the fence.
He cranes forward too, waiting for the buzz of electricity to fill his ears. Only, just as I knew, it never does. Because it never has. The fence’s electricity was shut off long before we were even born.
I watched as his face registered the silence, as he realized and trusted I was right. And I beamed at him, before showing him the way my father slips beyond the fence and guiding him through the trees, towards the cabin, buried deep inside the woods.
It took an hour to find, not because of the blackened sky, but because Peeta’s face hurt so badly that his gait was slowed. But I remained patient, even though that was never my strong suit either. I waited for him to pick up the pace, to be ready to move, to find our way through the tall green trees. I pulled all the branches I could see out of his path, used the moon as our flashlight and didn’t complain once when he stumbled along the way.
By the time we got to the cabin, it had to be past Archer’s bedtime. My mother would be worried sick for me, but I soothed myself that she had plenty on her plate. I’m her firstborn. The child she understands the least, the one who’s like her husband in body and soul. I knew I was probably near the bottom of her worry list.
The very first thing I did when we entered the cabin was order Peeta to sit down in the dining room. I gathered my mother’s first aid kit from the bathroom, wet a rag in cool water and I got to work cleaning the blood from his face.
“This has to be gross for you,” he murmurs after a long stretch of silence. His eyes betrayed how self-conscious he must have felt.
Trying to alleviate his anxiety, I pretended to shrug it off. “My mother cleans wounds all the time. At our kitchen table, no less.”
Peeta made a noise that indicated he didn’t buy my act of ease. “I heard at school that you run from the sick and injured.”
I raised my eyebrows at the comment. No one at school talked about me. No one knew me well enough to. People stopped trying to get close to any of Hunter Everdeen’s kids years ago.
The longer I stared at Peeta in disbelief, the more he seemed to lose confidence in his statement. “Maybe I didn't hear it,” he finally amended. I brought the damp cloth back up to his face again as a reward, tenderly wiping away the blood, before using the clean side to set against his swelling lid, hoping to offer some pain reduction there as well. “Maybe I saw it,” he added sheepishly.
I furrowed my brows, even more perplexed by the elaboration. “Saw it?”
“When Leaf Barker tripped and broke his knee in Physical Education last year? You were almost green when you bolted out of the gymnasium.”
His words conjured up a vague image. Still though, something about this felt odd to me.
“How do you remember that better than I do?”
At that, Peeta shrugged. “I guess, I notice you sometimes?”
“What do you mean, sometimes?” I pressed, none of his words suddenly making a bit of sense.
“Why did you stick up for me tonight?” He abruptly segued, his expression shifting into something of defense, like he’s trying to deflect.
But I’m not one to be deterred. “I wasn’t going to stand there and watch your mother hurt you,” I stated, my voice remaining firm. “Why?”
He continued to walk around my question. “Is tonight the first night you ever noticed me?”
I pulled my hand and the damp cloth away from his wounded face, reaching in the kit to grab a white cream I’d seen my mother and Prim both use on swelling before. “Yes,” I finally replied, because I don’t know what else to say. That I saw him glance at me sometimes and then watched as his eyes flit away? That I noticed how he doodled in math class, because he found the subject boring? That I’d seen him lift a sack easily over his shoulder at the bakery and watched him beat almost every upperclassmen at wrestling, even while three years their junior?
None of that seems even remotely relevant to mention.
“When was the first time you noticed me?” I shot back, still being careful to apply the cream with only the lightest pressure to his battered eye.
“Kindergarten,” he instantly blurted out, his tone simple and bold.
I stared at him in disbelief for a long moment before chuckling, catching the joke. “Funny.”
“I’m serious,” he refuted, peaking his good eye open, the sky meeting a silver dollar as our gaze locked. And I see that he is serious somehow.
“What?”
“The first day of kindergarten,” he continued, after a long beat of me just staring him. His confidence had wavered once again and he was looking a bit regretful that he’d put this out in the open. “You were wearing a red velvet dress and brown stockings. Your hair was in two braids instead of one and your ribbons matched your dress. The teacher asked during music assembly who knew The Valley Song and your hand shot right up. She put you on a stool and you sang it, clear as day, for everyone to hear. Even the birds outside stopped to listen. And from that moment on… I was a goner.”
I just continued to look at him in disbelief, unable to put the pieces of what he’s said together. Finally, I whispered, “you’re telling the truth?”
“I’ve had a crush on you for forever,” he admitted, his singularly open eye giving away his nerves at the admission. “And I know you probably don’t feel the same way. I know you didn’t even know my name until tonight but I just wanted to say, in case we never have the chance to speak again-”
“Stop,” I cut him off, my mind already about to explode. “Stop, um…” I refused to look at him as I spoke, furiously staring down at my lap. “I need more time to… process this.”
He had a crush on me since the first day of kindergarten? He’d heard me sing and from that day forward he held a hidden candle for me?
And he never once worked up the courage to talk to me?
Dozens of moments suddenly race through my mind.
Cerulean blue eyes finding me in a crowd countless times and then pulling away as soon as I meet them. The time I wanted to play a stupid game at recess and a stocky blonde boy volunteered to be team captain, and then picked me first. The stunning drawing I found in my locker last year on Sweetheart’s Day, that I was convinced was put there by mistake, though it bore a striking resemblance to the doodles on Peeta’s notebook.
And before I could stop it, I felt myself begin to shake with nerves.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he apologized, seeing my frightened reaction. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just… I didn’t know if I’d ever get the opportunity to tell you again-”
“Shhh,” I hushed, picking up the damp cloth once more. “Let me take care of your face. And then…” I hesitated again, unsure what to say in this situation. I had exactly zero experiences to compare this to. “Tomorrow we can talk more.”
Peeta nodded amicably, staying silent for the reminder of my ministrations. I felt a terrible pang of guilt for not responding the way he’d probably hoped, but there was still a part of me too stunned to even fully register the confession.
I was an outcast. I’d never fit in with the kids at school, neither town or Seam. I don’t look like the merchants and I’m too rich for the Seam folk. I would have been alone all the time at school if it weren’t for Madge Undersee, the mayor’s daughter who sat with me at lunch and partnered with me in class.
How could anyone have even noticed me to be anything other than strange? I barely spoke, even in classes where I knew all the answers. And I hardly participated in games or gossip. I had a father who insisted most days on picking me up himself from school, not allowing me to walk home alone like the other kids.
But the look in Peeta’s eyes was earnest. He wasn’t playing some elaborate trick on me, he wasn’t trying to coerce me into confessing something as well so he could humiliate me. He was being genuine in every way I could tell. And I had my father’s senses.
The same senses that helped him win his hunger games.
A new thought struck me out of the blue. Peeta seemed too kind and too considerate to have a mother who beat him like this. He doesn’t fit the profile of the kids in the community home, brought there by even less abuse than I witnessed firsthand tonight.
The insane urge to get to know him more, to learn more about this complete stranger who I went out on an impulsive limb for suddenly surges through my brain.
It wouldn’t be a good idea, I told myself. He’s a merchant and I’m the daughter of a victor. Two titles that seem not far apart in theory but are miles away from the other in practice. And I’m not experienced with people the way he is. I don’t know how to make friends or how to maintain them. I don’t know what he expects from me but it’s surely more than I know how to give. I don’t know what to say in a situation like this. Haymitch always tells me I’m as romantic as dirt.
But is that what I want to be? I asked myself as I finished fixing Peeta up. Do I want to be romantic? Do I want to be that girl who holds her boyfriend’s hand in the town square and kisses him under the moonlight? Do I want to put an embroidered ribbon in my hair and wear an expensive dress from the Capitol to go to the Sweetheart’s Dance? Do I want to sneak in through my bedroom window at the crack of dawn so my father won’t know I’ve been out all night?
If I could learn to be romantic, would I want to be?
And naturally, the answer I’ve always known automatically seeps through my brain. No. I’m not like my mother and Prim. I’m practical by nature, rather than fanciful. I’ve never truly obsessed about falling in love or fawned over even the most incredible looking men on the television.
But something held me back now. Something inside me said that answer, the truth I’d always known, is suddenly not entirely accurate anymore.
Because I find that I did want those things I just described. I did want to have someone to hold, someone to laugh with, someone who conjured up that same flip in my stomach as Peeta did earlier when he laughed.
I wanted the same kind of love my parents had. The kind of love that brought them both to life, despite the horrible circumstances they’d both separately endured. I wanted the kind of love that they showed me was possible, even in a world as bleak and as inhumane as Panem felt at times.
I only realized how long I’d been silent, contemplating my inner desires, when Peeta offered a minuscule smile and stood up slowly to leave.
I opened my mouth to speak but when his eyes met mine, every thought in my head was magically wiped away. I had nothing to say, nothing that could be of any sort of consequence, that could mean anything in comparison to his confession.
“I should head back to town,” he murmured, trying to appear nonchalant. “Face my mother. Hope she’s in a better mood now-”
But I couldn’t stand the idea of him returning to the witch, the idea of going to school tomorrow and acting like his words weren’t still spinning around my brain, the idea of even sleeping soundly tonight.
“Peeta,” I called just as he was about to reach the front door. “Wait!”
He turned towards me, looking puzzled by my outburst. “What’s wrong?”
And I don’t know what came over me. I still can’t place what made me—a girl who had never been decisive a day in her life—fling myself across the room and smash my lips onto his.
He didn’t respond at first. I caught him too completely by surprise. His lips hung there, frozen, as mine pushed against his, with too much force and an overload of desperation.
But I felt an incredible stirring in my chest, an odd sensation that felt akin to a giggle amplified.
And when he finally recovered from the shock of it all, his hands both came to rest on either side of my hips, his mouth began to move against mine, his knees bent to reach my height with more success, and the stirring turned to a fiery spark. I know he felt it too, as the kiss was swiftly disturbed by his wide grin.
“Don’t go back home tonight,” I gasped out, looking up at him, wide-eyed and breathless.
His gaze melted as he took me in, he head bobbing in agreement without even needing to consider my request.
“Okay,” he’d whispered with a dazed smile, his blue eyes impossibly wild and sleepy at the same time.
His expression, his spirit somehow, was contagious, and I found myself somewhere stuck between a laugh and a blush when I replied.
“Okay.”
/
After that night, Peeta rarely went back home. I had called my mother and let her know I was staying at the cabin, but intentionally eluded telling her that the baker’s son was joining me. We’d spent the entire night talking in front of the fire, making each other laugh. The bashfulness I felt from my unexpected kiss stayed in my gut, causing me to bubble up with embarrassed laughter every so often.
But instead of that making things awkward, it cut the tension pretty smoothly. It was only months later did Peeta confess he’d felt just as nervous and just as shy about spending time with me. He was charismatic, I realize even that first night. Ironically funny. He was nice, in a way I rarely have found anyone to be. And, the more time went on, the more my desire grew to stay close to him. The more often I was around him, the more painfully I missed him when we were apart.
It was only a matter of time until my mother found out—not least of all, because my siblings accidentally caught us kissing in back of the school, a month to the day we first spoke.
I always imagined she’d be strict on me, the firstborn, when it came to dating. Especially in the world we lived in. Especially with my father’s position. I truly thought she’d forbid a relationship until I was of age. Maybe I was wrong about her. Or maybe she just saw how I looked at Peeta and understood that I wasn’t just being careless or rebellious. That whatever magnetic connection I felt towards Peeta wasn’t just an ordinary school-aged fling.
To my surprise as well, my mother seemed to take on a very similar stance to me when it came to Peeta and my father. Keeping the news of this entanglement from her husband’s ears was almost her idea.
“What are you thinking about?” Peeta asks me now, bringing me back to the present moment. His fingers tickle my neck as they brush my hair back behind my ear, touching one of the satin green ribbons weaved throughout my loose braids.
“You,” I reply coyly, shooting him a sly glance as I slip past him to head back towards the kitchen.
“Me?” He calls in mock disbelief. He trails up behind me, catching me by the waist and swinging me into his arms without warning.
“Peeta!” I exclaim, automatically wrapping myself around him as I try to steady my balance midair.
“What, baby?”
“Put me down, baby,” I mock, pressing my nose to his now, rubbing them together.
“I like holding you though,” he whispers, like he’s confessing some huge secret.
“Until your arms gets tired-”
“That was one time, Katniss.”
“I’m just reminding you,” I say with an air of superiority. “You don’t always appreciate holding me.”
At that, his demeanor falls a little. “I do when I realize I won’t be seeing you much in a few days.”
I feel my heart sink now too. As excited as I am at the prospect of my father coming home, after weeks apart, I always have to be a little more careful upon his first days back.
He always likes to spend time at the cabin and go for long walks in the woods upon his return. Spend more time in nature than the indoors, stay far away from people outside our family, sleep under the stars by the lake. The Capitol is apparently luxurious, but in my father’s own words, it is void of any true or natural beauty. Everything is artificial, man-made, concocted and orchestrated. There’s nothing that compares in his mind—or mine either—to a cool breeze on a sunny day spent in the meadow where the dandelions grow tall.
“But I’ll still see you in school?” I say, though my voice comes out as more of a plea. Peeta doesn’t always like to attend school these days, not when he knows his parents can easily track him down there.
His father, the baker himself, took the ambiguous loss of his youngest—his favorite—son particularly hard. It was only a matter of weeks after I intercepted his mother beating him that Peeta definitively decided to sever ties with majority of his family.
I’d like to say he made the choice all on his own but that’d be a lie. I watched as the physical bruises on his skin healed, as he began to peel back emotional layer upon layer to me, as he slowly told me what really had been going on in the Mellark’s family home. And I can’t say that I was impartial to his decision to cut the connection to a mother with a bruising fist and a father who closed his eyes and let it happen.
“Delly’s parents usually make me go to school so…” He shrugs it off, like it’s of no consequence, his arms hoisting me higher against his chest.
But I feel a sudden wave of gratitude towards the Cartwrights. They may be a little too jolly for my liking and their daughter, Delly, maybe can’t take a hint to save her life, but at least they always watch out for Peeta’s well-being. At least they cover for him when his mother come sniffing around and they feed him what they can afford and force him to attend class, where I’ll be able to see him.
“Good,” I murmur, at peace now. My father will be home soon and Peeta will be safely tucked away with his best friend.
I lean down and kiss his nose sweetly, reveling in the tender moment. His lips follow my lead and begin to plant themselves across my chin, underneath my jaw, causing me to squirm and squeal at the sensation.
“So,” he murmurs against my throat. “We have the entire place to ourselves, for the whole night, huh?”
His audacious smile elicits my own. “At least.” My father’s delays usually mean a minimum of two days.
Within a minute, Peeta has me on my back, against the softly quilted bed of my upstairs room. He takes his time helping me out of my clothes before I hurriedly shove his off, impatient and hungry.
He, of course, finds time to crack a joke. “Good thing Archie is too young to come here unchaperoned. Or else we’d never get the chance to do this.”
I roll my eyes and shove his mouth off my collarbone, utterly disgusted now. “Talking about my baby brother is one sure way to turn me off, Peeta.”
Archer, my three-old-brother, was an unexpected surprise, to put it lightly. My parents were done with two girls. My father joked him and my mother were both already set with one clone each, but alas, the year of the Seventieth Hunger Games was a year full of shocks.
A few months before the games that year, the coal mines—the industry Twelve is known for—exploded. Right in the middle of the afternoon, as everyone was obliviously going about their day.
It was a close call for many and one more reason my father is beloved around these parts. If he hadn’t been at the right place, at the right time, if he hadn’t volunteered to go with Prim and her class on a field trip down to the mines that day, there was a chance that no one would have noticed the gas leak.
It was too late to do anything by the time my father pointed it out, but his warning and the fact that people in Twelve take his word very seriously, managed to save the lives the inevitable explosion would have otherwise cost.
Through the outpouring of gratitude, and the overwhelming media coverage my whole family was abruptly bombarded with, my parents made the decision to pull me and Prim from school for a while, to hole up in the remodeled cabin, where no one could find us because of its illegal location.
I’ve never ask and I don't ever want to know when my parents conceived Archer. But about nine months after the vacation from the world, my mother gave birth to a little boy who looked identical to me and my father.
“Sorry,” Peeta whispers with a chuckle, collapsing beside me. “I’ll make it up to you.”
He moves to kiss my stomach, to trace circles on my hips like he always does. But I shake my head, a different request—or more like it, demand—on my mind.
“Tell me the story of how you first fell in love with me?”
Peeta rolls his eyes. Very dramatically. “You mean a year ago?”
“I mean in kindergarten,” I say with a smirk and then let out a shriek of surprise when he pounces on me, his lips attacking my neck.
“Aren’t you tired of that story yet?” He asks, his voice edging on exasperated.
“You never tire of a classic.” I give him a pout, knowing he never refuses me anything when I pull that trick.
I’m right, as per usual. “Fine,” he relents, but his eyes tell me that he enjoys telling this tale more than he leads on. “Come here.” He holds open his arms and waits for me to crawl into them, to settle against his chest.
I lay there for a long moment, my pointer finger running up and down the center of his bicep, as my ear rests against his heartbeat, patiently waiting for him to begin.
“It was the very first day of school. You were wearing a red, velvet dress…”
/
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illneverrecover · 3 years
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trust my love | pjy
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➛pairing: Park Jinyoung x Reader ➛genre: librarian!reader, non idol!AU, Slice of Life!AU, fluff, humor  ➛word count: 2,343 ➛rating: E ➛warnings: I know we are shocked, but since this isn’t smut there isn’t many! Kissing, Making out in a library, Persistent Jinyoung. This is just softsoftcute. ➛summary: Jinyoung frequents the library in hopes of convincing you to go on a date on with him, but you’re not so easy to win over. Luckily, he’s not easily deterred. ➛notes: This is my piece for the Secret Admirer’s Project 2021 for @ksmutclub​! I’m a little nervous to post this because it’s the first time I’ve written about GOT7, however it was an honor to do so for @birbdae​. Thank you for playing along with my asks, Dae! It was fun to get to know you and I hope you like this! 🍒 Also shout out to my sweet sugar bb @taetaesbaebaepsae​ for beta reading and hyping me up, ily. Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone. ➛song: Trust My Love - GOT7 |  Love You Better - GOT7
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“He’s here again."
Sighing heavily, you spin around, running your hands through your hair. Not that you cared what it looked like, of course. Why would you?  
“Is he headed this way?”
“No, it looks like he’s headed towards fiction, turning down..” Ara pauses, eyes scanning the room, “the literature aisle - classics, to be specific.” 
“Great.” 
Ara keeps her gaze trained on her mark, angling her body towards you. “What do you think he’ll bring you today?”
“As if I care,” you scoff, moving over to the restock cart and busying yourself by grabbing a stack of books to plop down next to your computer. You had already organized and prepped most of these already, but no one else knows that. “Believe it or not, my work day does not evolve around what’s-his-face showing up unannounced-”
“-his name is Jinyoung, and you know that-”
“-and I have important things to attend to. He’s just another customer, nothing else.”
You can feel her glare boring into your skull, but you refuse to give in to meet it. If you do, you’ll see the disbelief and frustration in her eyes, which will be an open invitation for Ara to give you yet another one of her famous ‘You Need To Live Your Life’ speeches, which you have no patience for today. 
She finally shrugs her shoulders, turning to grab the empty cart. “Whatever you say, dear. I’m off to get the books from the front drop off,” she glides away, the cart squeaking at her increased pace, “have fun with Jinyoung!” 
Closing your eyes, you inhale deeply, wondering how long it’ll be before the man in question comes striding up to your desk, a book tucked under his arm and a disarming smile in tow.
He had been coming into your library now for what felt like years, but in reality was only a few weeks. You aren’t sure what started his interest in you - his first day in your check out line had been a brief and altogether forgettable encounter - but since that day, he has come in three times a week like clock work. He always returns a book, spends anywhere between fifteen and twenty minutes pursuing the stacks, fingers dragging against the spines, seemingly searching for something. And then he finds you, regardless of what floor you are working and what your current task is, and chats you up while you scan his library card, shuffling him out the door as quickly as you can.
Conversation started off innocent at first, usually small talk about whatever read he had just finished and dropped off in the return box. You pride yourself on being polite and professional, even if it was clear he had other intentions. But it was when he began asking more about you, inquiring about your days off  that you felt your hackles raise. The next time he returned a book, he skipped the pleasantries, instead leaving you with a wink and a slip of paper with his phone number inside the pages, right next to the author note. 
‘Go on a date with me?’
Such a simple phrase shouldn’t have caused such havoc in your life, and yet here you were.
Your traitorous co-workers all though it was so sweet, so romantic how he pursued you. Nevermind that he had the face of the type of man who has done this before, who likely has a contact list a mile long of names attached to pretty women that would all fawn over him at a moment’s notice. Or the fact that he clearly came from money; his designer peacoats and dress shirts always crisp, clean, and the complete opposite of anything you owned. 
No, this wasn’t a budding romance - if anything, it was a classic case of a man who liked the chase, even if you refused to run. 
The clearing of a throat pulls you from your thoughts, eyes snapping to address the intruder. “Can I help you with something?” 
“Hi, yes you can. I’d like to check out this book, please.” Jinyoung smiles brightly, eyes dancing with mirth. He’s dressed in a warm khaki color sweater today, the tips of a white collar peeking out of the neckline and tucked into his perfect pressed slacks. He’s handsome, and you both know it. 
Seemingly catching you staring, he raises a brow in question, one that you promptly ignore. Instead, you hold out your hand impatiently, waiting for him to share which novel he’s going to try to use to impress you with today. When you glance down at the title, your eyebrow raises. 
“The Ghost Bride, hmm? Doesn’t really seem like your type,” you mutter, taking the book and flipping it to scan it. His library card awaits beside it, the elegant script of his signature seemingly taunting you. “Are you sure you didn’t mean to pick up something else? I can show you where the picture books are-”
“Nope, this was the right one. I’m just following your recommendations, you know. This was your pick of the week.” 
You scowl, swiping his card under the scanner before grabbing the automatically printed receipt, sliding his items back towards him across the counter. You had forgotten about the ‘See What Our Librarians Recommend!’ board that Mark had put up earlier in the week in an attempt to engage more with the customers. There hadn’t been much thought behind your pick other than it was one you enjoyed; getting immersed into other cultures and their traditions one of the easiest ways to relax your mind. But now you felt self conscious, like he was peering into your head. 
You shake the thought away, turning back to your screen. “Yes, I’m aware of that. Well, have a nice day, I gotta get back to work.” 
“Have you thought about the answer to my question?”
Jinyoung is still waiting at the counter, a small but earnest smirk tugging at his lips, eyes locked on to yours. If you didn’t know any better, you would think his curiosity was genuine with how he stared, how kind he was. 
But you knew better. 
“Yes, and the answer is no. I’m not looking to date right now,” you huff, breaking his gaze once more. There was something intense about how he looked at you, and it made your nerves dance under your skin. 
“May I ask why?”
Sighing, you close your eyes, counting the breath as you pull it into your lungs. What a loaded question. There were thousands of answers, a multitude of reasons why it was a bad idea to accept a date from the handsome stranger that frequents your library. Which would be acceptable to share; that you’ve had your heart broken more times than you care to admit, and don’t want to be hurt again? That you’re too immersed in your work and your goals that you don’t have time for a relationship? Or that you spend your days lost between the pages of books, delving into new worlds and reading about loves so pure and avowed that you know anything you come across in real life will be a disappointment?
Instead of those truths, you give him a tight smile. “Because I don’t know you, and you haven’t earned one yet.” 
There was an unspoken challenge in those words, but you didn’t care. You knew that Jinyoung with his pretty face and captivating charm would give up soon, and when that time came, you’d breathe a sigh of relief and continue about your life just as it was before he came in it. 
“I get it, you don’t trust me,” he looks down at his shoes, inhaling deeply before returning his amber eyes to you. “But I’m serious. I’ll prove it to you.” 
He stands there a beat more, as if he wanted to be sure you understood his promise before turning and walking away, giving a final grin over his shoulder. 
You should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.
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The harsh refusal of his proposal didn’t deter Jinyoung in the least, if anything, it renewed his commitment. He continued his visits to the library, this time determined to speak with you more, get to know you better. He had befriended Mark shortly into his endeavors and your traitorous coworker had told him everything he knew about you - favorite foods, your favorite color, sweets you indulged on when the mood was right. And Jinyoung had weaponized this information, bringing you Peruvian lilies  in the palest of lilacs, leaving tiny boxes of nougat de montelimar on your cart on top of the books for you to find. 
Each time he came to your check out line, he was prepared with a new book and more questions, always briefly discussing his thoughts on the novel before peppering you with inquiries about anything from mundane preferences to how your parents were doing. 
The most infuriating part was it was working. The once practiced guard you had built around yourself slowly coming undone piece by piece, day by day as Jinyoung gave you patient smiles and cheeky winks. Your heart was softening to his antics, and soon you caught yourself thinking about what a date with him would be like, how being the sole object of his affections somewhere that isn’t covered in a fine line of dust and doesn’t smell like old books would make you feel.
It’s this train of thought you’re lost in when he strides up to your counter, another book in his arms, face lighting up once he sees you. 
“Hi, beautiful. Just this for me today,” he murmurs, placing the book he selected directly into your hands instead of on the counter as usual. 
You didn’t have to look at the cover to know which novel he’d handed you, the story itself being so familiar that you could recognize it by the weight of it in your hands alone. “You’re telling me you haven’t read The Great Gatsby before?”
He chuckles then, head ducking down sheepishly. “Ah, it was one of those we had to read in school ages ago, but I don’t really remember it. I wasn’t as into books back then.” 
You nod, remembering how your peers didn’t seem to be as obsessed with reading as you had been. “That’s fair. This is one of those that the meaning tends to be lost on a bunch of teenagers, anyway.” Scanning the book and his card, you place it back in his open palm, feeling like you were giving him a tiny piece of your heart.
“I decided to give it another shot - since it's your favorite, and all.” 
Warmth spreads in your cheeks and you wonder briefly if he notices the way you fight a smile. It had been a passing comment, something said while he watched you restock the non fiction section one afternoon, but the fact he remembered caused something in your chest to ache. 
“Well, let me know what you think. I mean, if you’re able to follow along, that is.” 
His slow smirk transforms into a beaming smile, his face softening as he tucks the novel under his arm. “I think I’ll manage. I’ve been able to keep up so far,” his gaze drops to drag over your form before meeting your eyes. “And I’ve been loving every minute.”
He wasn’t talking about books, and the thought had you floating on air for the rest of your shift. 
That night, when you’re safely tucked into bed and far away from the library, you grab the wrinkled slip of paper and type Jinyoung’s number into your phone.
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The metal of the old bookcase was ice against your bare skin, back arching up as you lick into Jinyoung’s mouth. What started off as a gentle press of lips in the back stacks of the reference section quickly intensified when his tongue sought yours, the kiss hungry and dripping of pent up desire. 
You hadn’t planned on anything happening, only wanting the abandoned aisles so that you could accept his date offering without your coworkers lurking, not wanting to do it over text. However you didn’t account for Jinyoung’s excitement, the way he looked like he won the lottery when you told him before swiftly backing you into the shelves in a heated kiss - not that you’re complaining. 
His body is firm as he presses into you, hands cupping your cheeks in a gentle way that offset his fervent exploration of your mouth. You melt under his touch, body seeking him like a moth to flame, unwilling to leave his warmth.
“Jinyoung,” you breathe, pushing him away from your lips. “We probably shouldn’t do this here.”
He chuckles, a hand snaking around your waist to tug you close once more. “Probably not. But you have no idea how long I’ve been dying to do that.” 
“Do what? Fondle me in a dusty library?”
He shakes his head lightly before leaning in, his mouth inches from your own, the look in his eyes seizing the air in your lungs. “He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God.”
Swallowing thickly, you ignore the painful gallop of your pulse, the way your defenses seem to crumble each time you’re in his presence. You don’t tell him how much it means to you that he didn’t give up, that he did all of these things just to earn your trust. That he put in so much effort to learn everything about you, took time to memorize the lines from your favorite novel just to make you smile.
Instead, you look up at him through heavy lashes, an easy grin on your lips.  “Did you just quote ‘The Great Gatsby’ at me?” Giggling, you swat his arm. “That was a little cheesy.” 
Jinyoung just meets your gaze, says everything with how he peers into your eyes without saying anything at all. “It only gets better from here, trust me.” 
264 notes · View notes
infinitebells · 3 years
Text
propositions (s. gojō)
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genre: fluff, suggestive (but not nsfw)
description: of all of the things gojō has brought home as a souvenir in the years you’ve known (and dated) him, you never expected him to bring this home.
word count: 1409
warnings: fem!reader, suggestive
a/n: ok this was inspired by the kissing prompt “wild, breathless kisses brought on by a heartfelt gift” and now i can’t get the thought out of my head so ENJOY.
✧   ✧   ✧
“baby! i’m home!” a grin broke out on your face upon hearing your boyfriend’s voice echo through your house. throwing your phone down on the bed, you sprint from your shared bedroom, down your steps (tripping a little at the end in your haste) towards your front entrance. upon seeing gojō, his mess of white hair and mini sunglasses perched precariously on his nose, giggles escape you. your instincts take over, causing you to sprint full speed and jump towards him. he drops the bag in his hand to catch you, a small grunt leaving him as your body hits his full force. however, he doesn’t drop you, instead wrapping his arms around you tightly and holding your body close to his as your arms come around his neck and your legs plant themselves around his waist, hooking at the ankles.
“hi,” your voice is small, almost tentative, but he knows you’re excited to see him after being gone for a week and a half.
“hi gorgeous. missed me?” teasing was always a big part of your relationship, so you aren’t surprised at his mocking tone.
“never, nanami kept me company obviously,” an offended gasp leaves his mouth. his arms drop from your thighs, yet you stay attached to gojō.
“what are you a koala bear?” he laughs in astonishment, and you can’t help but giggle as well.
“i’m your koala bear,” he can’t help but wrap his arms back around you and move around his dropped bag towards the couch. with one arm wrapped around you, he moves the other to grab the back of the sofa for support as he plops down with you now safely on his lap.
“i missed you,” he murmurs in your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple as you adjust to sit comfortably on him.
“i missed you too stupid,” your words were muffled against the crook of his neck, and your body vibrated as he laughed at your “affectionate” nickname for him. he shuffled underneath you for a moment before setting one arm around your waist and the other one pushing your head closer to him. he deeply sighed beneath you, basking in the warmth your body radiated. he took a moment to admire your outfit, smiling softly at your white fuzzy socks with blueberries printed on them (which you insisted were representative of his white hair and ocean blue eyes) before looking up to see-
“are you wearing my t-shirt?” your giggles sound almost evil as you lean back to look at him, look down at his your shirt, and then look back to him.
“perhaps. although i think it looks better on me,” your argument is enough for him to drop whatever rebuttal he had in mind, instead focusing on something else.
“oh! i have a present for you. but, you gotta go upstairs and wait until i call you down to come get it ok? i gotta get part of it ready first,” he explained, and you nod excitedly before dismounting from him and scurrying upstairs to wait patiently for him to finish getting your present ready. in your time, you send a quick text to shōko, letting her know gojō had made it home and that you’d meet with her tomorrow for lunch instead of tonight for dinner. after receiving a thumbs up from her, you scroll through various social media programs, trying to buy time.
“babeee i’m done!” you jump in surprise upon seeing gojō standing in the doorway of your room.
“jeez you scared me stupid,” you laugh a little at his cheeky grin, not being able to stay mad at him.
“you’re so loving, i’m so lucky to be with you!” he walks over, pinching your cheeks and squeezing them together. after finally pushing him away you rub your cheeks in protest.
“ow! that hurt,” pouting towards him, he simply laughs at your over exaggeration.
“my present will make up for it. for now, put on this blindfold and i’ll lead you downstairs okay?” he pushes the blindfold towards you, shaking it a bit after you didn’t take it immediately.
“promise not to let me run into things?” you say, hesitantly reaching out to grab at the soft fabric.
“i promise, now come on!” he pushes the blindfold over your eyes, submerging you into pure darkness. his warm hands envelop your shaky ones, carefully leading you across the floor. even though you had no sense of vision, you trusted gojō with your life. you knew he’d protect you no matter what.
“okay we reached the stairs so i’m just gonna carry you down,” he says from what you perceive as in front of you. before you can protest, you feel his arm wrap around your sides, gently picking you up and moving your legs so they wrap around his torso. his hands settle underneath your thighs, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling your head into his chest as he walks down the stairs.
“you’re adorable i hope you know,” he mumbles, leaving a light kiss on the top of your head. you hum in contentment, that familiar warm feeling (that you only get with him) spreading throughout your chest.
“alright love, we reached the bottom of the stairs so i’m gonna set you down. wait until i tell you to to take the blindfold off okay?” you feel him gently set you down, his hands leaving your legs.
“okie,” you stand in place, hearing him shuffle around. the longer you stand there the more you feel slightly anxious from having to wait so long.
“alright baby you can look now,” at that, you yank the blindfold off. in front of you is two lines of macarons lining a pathway of white rose petals. at the end of the line of treats and petals, is gojō satoru, the love of your life, your one and everything, kneeling with a box and a ring. you can only gasp, tears welling in your eyes as the sight before you shocks you to your very core.
“in all the years i’ve known you, i knew you were the one for me. i would love to go on this winded explanation as to why i feel that way but i’m too impatient to sit here without knowing my answer. so please, will you be my wife and do me the honor of mar-“ he doesn’t get the chance to finish as you fling yourself towards him, enveloping him in a hug as your lips meet his, tears streaming down your face. you pull back to let out a breathless laugh, as your eyes meet.
“yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” you finish with another kiss, one hand flying up to your head, his fingers burying themselves in your hair to hold your head closer. your kisses are anything but neat, teeth clashing and spit leaking from your mouths but neither of you could care in that moment. you detach from each others lips for him to bring the ring in between you two, carefully slipping the ring on your left ring finger. you marvel at the beauty of it’s simplicity, a larger diamond with two, smaller sapphires surrounding it.
“god i love you so much,” you breathe out, grabbing his face with both hands and mashing your lips together again. you can’t stay attached long enough before planting infinite messy kisses along the rest of his face.
“i love you to infinity and beyond love, always and forever,” he says, holding your waist tightly before standing up with you in your arms. you squeal in surprise, genuine laughs echoing around you both. using his incredible speed, he has you both in your room in a matter of two seconds, dropping you on the bed as he yanks his shirt off and crawling on top of you, encasing your lips in yet another kiss. this time, it’s much slower, much more passionate. his tongue slithers along yours, tasting every inch of your mouth. breathy moans erupt from your throat, causing him to pull back smirking at you.
“now, let me show my new fiancé just how much i love you,” he finishes with a hand sliding up your side, cupping your naked breast. with the look in his eyes and the calculated movements of his fingertips, you know you’ll be in for a long, long night. but you wouldn’t want it any other way.
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alyss01 · 3 years
Text
|[It's a family business]|
Comfy cartel x F!reader
Part 1
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[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]
Genre: Mafia AU/ action
Word count: 1.7K
Requested: no
To request: it is possible to request a comfy cartel fanfic, requests are open!
Synopsis: Corpse joins the cartel, and soon you accompany him, together with Rae, Lily, Sykunno and Toast to a new opening casino to deal with some unpaid debt.
Warnings: talk about murder, crimes, blood
A/n: I really wanted to make this and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out! It started as a one shot and then quickly progressed to what will most likely be 4 parts. I could've posted them as one but this was easier with writing it and managing to space out things. It will update weekly most likely, and it's possible to request one shots for the comfy cartel!
Masterlist
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You sat across from Toast on the table, his dark glasses covering his eyes as he patiently waited, a map in front of him. He pulled an identical map from underneath the wooden table you sat at and replaced the one that had previously laid on the table.
His face was neutral, he didn't fight the silence that hung in the air. He looked at you as you leant back in your chair, fingers impatiently tapping the table in front of you.
"You don't have to be here you know." He spoke up, his voice carrying practiced authority that could silence an entire meeting full of arguing. Yet as he spoke to you, it had a tone of kindness to it. After all the time you spent together and the situations you had been in with one another he saw you more as his younger sister than anything else. It was a position you had acquired for most of the cartel.
As the sister of Scarra you had a lot of authority in the cartel, although it wasn't as if you needed it. Everyone, no matter how recently the cartel had taken them under it's wing, viewed you as their little sister in the hierarchy of the family.
"Don't worry about it. I want to see the new blood." Toast nodded his head a few times as if to ponder.
Today the new person Toast had scouted out would be arriving at the cartel for his first job, he'd be monitored by Sykunno.
"Are you sure Sykunno would be the best fit?" You had seen his information, they seemed far from compatible.
Toast offered you a small smile, brushing his hair back as he repositioned his glasses. His voice was confident as he spoke, a small hint of his smile could be heard in his voice, "I'm sure."
The male in front of you had always had a scarily good intuition about people, which was how he had recruited most in the cartel.
You nodded in return, but before you had the chance to even consider getting bored again, a stern knock on the door pulled your attention to it.
Toast gave a signal for the person on the other side to come in. You locked eyes with him, he was largely build, carefully dressed in a white blouse with a black vest, tie and dress pants, with white gloves covering his hands. A purple mask covered most of his face, but black curly hair framed the small piece of exposed skin he showed.
His eyes were sharp as he locked them with yours. Your eyebrow raised curiously as he returned his attention back to the male in front of him, "Corpse."
"Disguised Toast." He spoke back, his voice deep and serious as you looked him over. If you hadn't known better you probably wouldn't have been aware of the true nature of the man, despite the intimidating aura that hung around him.
"It's a bad habit to be late." You spoke up as you calmly leant back in your chair, usually when you accompanied Toast to these kinds of things you stayed silent in the background as you observed.
Toast gave you a curious look for that, it was largely hidden by the glasses on his face but it was obvious for you after all the years.
Corpse stayed silent to your remark as you narrowed your eyes, "you'd do good to change the habit before doing something you'll regret." The message in your words was clear, don't pull this again if you want to keep your spot in the cartel.
He gave you a silent nod as Toast returned to the topic, "to start off, you'll be disposing of someone. Sykunno will accompany you as your guardian." He pushed the document to the end of the table where Corpse grabbed it and opened it briefly.
"You'll be reporting back to me, in three days. I want it done before then." Once more Corpse nodded his head as Toast dismissed him.
He walked out of the room, being met by a calm face with a gentle smile displayed. He offered his hand to Corpse, "I'm Sykunno, happy to meet you."
"That was unlike you." Toast remarked as he turned to you, you simple leant back in your chair as you met his eyes, "he needs to know his place."
Toast nodded as he grabbed the document from underneath the table that displayed Corpse's information. He stood up as he walked to the door, closing it behind him as he left you alone in the room.
•••••••••
Sykunno was crouching in front of the body, turning to his companion with a small smile on his face, "jesus, you actually killed him." His voice was calm as he grabbed the dead man's cheek with his gloved hand.
Corpse still held the gun in his hand, he had considered pointing it at the male in front of him but something about it made him unable to actually commit to the deed.
Sykunno tilted the corpse's head around, before releasing and sliding his gloves fingers through the blood that had formed a puddle on the ground and spreading it between his finger tips.
His clean hand grabbed his phone as Corpse stood silently against the wall watching the scene in front of him. Not a single drop of blood had reached him.
"Yvonne? Yes, I'll text you the address." He stayed silent as Corpse could hear a female voice on the other side of the call, "hmh, yes that should be fine. Take it to my garden, it'll make for fine fertilizer."
Corpse curiously listened along, he had known there was more to Sykunno than the sly, calm, gentle and happy mask he wore.
Sykunno stepped away, turning back to Corpse with a gentle smile on his face as he clicked the call away and returned his phone to the pocket it originated from.
"Let's go, Toast will be happy to hear the results."
They calmly walked out of the building as a small van stopped in front of it. Corpse's hand automatically moved to the gun in it's holster at his side.
The movement from Sykunno's hand made him stop as the back doors of the van opened, he started walking past it as a female with blonde hair and pink ends carried out a small trolley with cleaning supplies displayed.
Sykunno offered her a small nod of his head which she returned. Corpse could distantly hear her speak to the front door man, "I'm the cleaning service that was ordered for today."
"There was no such thing."
"I've been send here by Y/n, ask the front desk, they'll know." The man left his position for a second as he leant inside, his voice muffled, before turning back "please, come in."
He followed Sykunno as they fled the scene.
•••••••••••
Lily granted you a smile as you entered the room, beside her sat Toast and at the head of the table sat your brother, Don Scarra.
"Brother." You greeted him first as you moved to the table. A fond smile formed on his face, "sister, how have you been?"
You returned the genuine smile as you sat down, "The days have been interesting with our newest member." Scarra nodded his head thoughtfully.
It had been a few weeks since Corpse had accomplished his first task. Sykunno still watched over him but they were more akin to companions than a guardian. They had gone of a few other tasks, and for now Corpse had the trust of the cartel.
The other two greeted you as well as Toast slid a file over the table towards you. "What do you think?"
You had started in the cartel innocently enough, despite your older brothers desperate attempts to keep you out. Your contacts were simply unparalleled.
Besides that you were an important person, both in and out of the cartel, and eventually Scarra had decided it was safest for you to become part of the cartel, seeing as there was no safer place for you to be.
Your eyes scanned the pages, nodding your head as you read. A large celebration party for the opening of a new casino, the owner however refused to repay the cartel according to Ludwig who was in charge of the cartels money flow. He was divine in covering up the hardest of situations to the government and cheating the system.
The price had apparently build up to the amount where only his life would suffice, although as you looked at the mans information you doubted if even that was enough.
"I'll be able to get some people in, but for that I will have to attend myself as well." You shot a glance at Scarra, who had always been seriously opposed to you working in the field.
"Then we'll find another moment." Scarra spoke up as you had expected him to do, this wasn't the first time and you had a hunch it wouldn't be the last either.
Toast spoke up, "with all due respect, Don Scarra, but the target has been in hiding for months. This may be the only shot we have until he disappears again."
Lily repositioned her hat, the white flower on it changing position with the movement as she turned to the Don, "this would be a low risk mission, the guest list has been screened by Micheal, so the only obstacle will be the security. I've made him download the building plans and he'll be on comms to guide us through."
Scarra however still didn't seem convinced as Toast continued on Lily's reasoning, "beside that, we can send enough people to accompany her. We'll need her reputations to get into the VIP areas where he'll most likely stay hidden. Y/n will be kept out of danger at all costs."
Scarra seemed convinced as you turned to him, knowing you wouldn't have a say in the matter, "so who will accompany me?"
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inkandpen22 · 3 years
Text
Otherworldly Kings and Queens (1/?)
Pairing: Prince Caspian x Female!Reader / Peter Pevensie x Female!Reader  
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1.6k 
Part Summary: Y/N and Peter have been best friends since they were little. She knows all about their ‘supposed’ adventure to Narnia last year. She’s not quite convinced... that is until she sees it with her own eyes. 
Masterlist
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“No Ed, I won’t do your English paper!" I nudge the boy on the side as we hurry to the train station.
“Oh come on, I’ll help you with your chemistry!” He rushes out.
“You’re haven’t even taken chemistry yet," I remind him. He's younger than me, what could his help possibly do for me?
Commotion in the stairwell of the train station interrupts our chatter. Edmund and I push through the crowd, afraid of the worst. Sure enough, I was right with my prediction as I watch Peter being tossed around like a rag doll. Edmund shoves me as he leaps past to join in the fight.
“Ed, no!” I yelp, reaching for his wrist.
He slips out of my grip with a yank. Susan and Lucy appear at my side, visibly as frustrated as me. Why must they always be getting into fights? After last year, when the four of them came back from the country, they were different. Peter was different. My life-long friend that was always levelheaded and determined had become impatient and spoke of fairytale lands. His ego has never faltered in over the decade that I’ve known him, but to believe himself a king is a bit much.
The familiar sound of the Military Polices’ whistles causes everyone to scatter. I, however, linger to wait for Peter.
“Y/N, come on!” Lucy tugs at my shirt.
“No, you go on,” I tell her and Susan.
“You’re going to get in trouble!” The eldest warns.
“What else is new? Your brother is always getting me in trouble,” I laugh.
Susan and Lucy run off to avoid getting written up for instigating. I'm always waiting for Peter after these things. Leaning against the wall, I watch as the MP grabs Peter by the collar and yank him up. He tells him off and shouts at Peter to grow up. Lord knows he needs to hear it from time to time. Solemnly, he goes and picks up his satchel. His eyes finally find me, having not realized I was even here until now. His eyes are wide at first like he’s been caught. Then, his features fall as guilt replaces surprise.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters. I know he genuinely means it, but this attitude is getting old.
I try to knock some sense into him. “Be sorry to yourself. You’re better than this Peter!” I'm sure I sound nagy, but someone has to do it.
“I know, but he bumped me." Peter drapes his arm over my shoulder and begins to escort me to the train platform.
“So you punched him?” I grumble, having heard this story a million times.
“No," he remarks In a sassy tone. "He bumped me, was going to make me apologize, so then I hit him!”
I halt, making Peter stop a few steps ahead. He sighs dramatically, already knowing what's coming as he scans the station. His brother and sister sit on the bench just yards away. Lucy and Ed can't help but look, despite Susan's pestering.
“This isn’t a boxing ring! We’re just kids!” I shout to my best friend.
His head snaps in my direction. Oh great, here we go.
“I wasn’t always a kid, Y/N! You try growing up to be thirty and a full-fledged king only to be sent back as a kid and useless!” He yells in return.
Solemnly, I interlock our hands. He avoids my gaze until I place a hand on his cheek and make him look at me.
"You’re not useless," I tell him simply, calmer than before.
“I sure feel like it,” he grumbles.
“If you were I wouldn’t be so fond of you,” I smile.
His sea-blue eyes aren't as bright as they could be, but they're not gloomy at least. I need to remind myself to bring a comb with me to school for when Peter decides to get all raggedy. I brush some of his now disheveled hair back from his face. He reacts with a weak smile and brings his hand up to mine to interlock them. Calmly, he guides me over to the bench with the other Pevensies.
“Must you always be fighting?” Susan nags.
“Must you always be a know-it-all,” Peter fires back as we sit down beside each other.
“Takes one to know one,” Edmund adds to the mix.
“Enough you three,” I declare as Peter rests our hands on his lap. I turn my attention to the eldest sister beside me. “Who was that boy I saw you were speaking with?”
“Someone from school. I don’t want to talk about it,” She shifts uncomfortably.
“Ow!” Lucy suddenly yelps, flying up from the bench.
“Quiet Lu,” Susan grumbles.
“Something pinched me!” Lu points to the bench.
“Stop pulling!” Peter yells at Ed next to him.
“I'm not touching you!” His brother shouts defensively.
A sudden pinch to my bum makes me leap up from the bench like Lucy. “Honestly Peter!” I scold, brushing down my skirt.
He hurries to stand, wide-eyed. “It wasn’t me!”
"It feels like magic!" Lucy expresses enthusiastically.
“Everyone stop!” Susan barks, appearing at my side. “Quick hold hands.”
Peter immediately takes my hand. I do as Susan asked and slip mine into her's as well. Soon, we're all holding hands in a line facing the platform. I train zooms through the station at such a fast rate that it creates a gust of wind. People around us don't react to tiles flying off the walls or the metal beams being ripped from the ceiling. Panicked, I move my arm back to let go of Peter's hand. When he notices, his head snaps in my direction and he grips my hand tighter.
"Never let go!" He instructs sternly, almost sounding like a warning.  
“Peter, what’s happening?! What is this?!”
A glimmer of light flashing into my eyes from across the station captures our attention. I watch as what appears to be a sea coast begins to appear through the windows of the train. What was once the subway tiled wall is now stone. I glance down at our feet and there's no longer cement, but sand. Eventually, all remnants of the station are gone and we're standing in a cave beside a crystal blue sea. I turn my attention to the bright light of the sun pouring in from the entrance of the cave and the train disappears into it.
Susan lets go of my hand, but Peter remains squeezing mine. Anxiously, I slip my free hand around his arm. The Pevensies don't appear quite as awestruck as me, merely in a daze in fact. I follow their lead, walking toward the entrance of the cave. Lucy steps ahead, turning back to us with a bright smile. Then, she and Susan run off ahead giggling. Peter lets go of my hand and shoves Ed in the chest playfully before running off after the girls. Soon, the four of them are playing in the ocean, as glad as can be.
Still, in a bit of shock, I walk along to join them. Where are we?! How did that happen?! How are they so bloody calm?!
"We did it!" Lucy squeals as she splashes Peter.
“We’re back!” Ed gleams.
“I can’t believe we’re here!” Susan adds.
I kick off my shoes as they've done, but remain just ankle-deep in the water. “Where is here exactly?” I ask softly, internally debating whether I'm just dreaming.
“Narnia!” Peter laughs, visibly overjoyed.
My head shifts forward as I stare at my friend in disbelief. “Narnia?! The place you kept telling me about last year?! It’s real?!”
“You didn’t believe us?” Lucy questions.
“Didn't believe me?” Peter adds, peering at me with a hurt expression.
"Oh don't give me that. If I came up to you and told you I was a mermaid, would you believe me?" I ask as he approaches me.
The rest of the Pevensies continue their celebrating as Peter and I are evidently going to have it out again. Forgive me for not being quick to believe in fairytales. The blonde boy towers over me by nearly a foot and appears rather pleased about it at this moment.
"Perhaps... should we test and see if you really are one?" He snickers mischievously, his hard face fading away.
"What?"
He ignores my question, instead, Peter picks me up over his shoulder and carries me out into deep water. I squeal playfully swatting at his back to be let down.
"Peter! Peter no!" I laugh nervously which only encourages him.
In a second, he flings me into the deep water with a splash. The crystal blue waves encompass my body as the cold temperature electrified my skin. I push off the sandy clay-like floor and rise above the surface. The water comes up to just above my waist. Hands appear on my face and start to wipe the water away from my eyes. I recognize the laughter to be Peter's. My eyes flicker open and sure enough, my best friend stands in front of me soaking wet. I smirk and flick my hand across the water to splash him in the face.
I laugh, "paybacks!"
"Oh, you're going to get it!" He grins, already wrapping his arms around my waist.
It's true, all of it is true! I remember everything Peter told me, even if I didn't necessarily believe it, I listened.  I've known them practically my whole life, how could they possibly be existing in two worlds? I look at Peter and his siblings right now and all I see are kids. I can't envision them as monarchs! If all of it's true, Peter was once a man, a grown man! He's lived through so much and has far more life experience than I could ever imagine. I have so many questions!
___________________________
Tags:  @blackbirddaredevil23​ @rangergranger11​ @hyperactiveravenclaw 
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yamigooops · 3 years
Text
Tire Tracks
pairing: street racer! bakugou x mechanic! y/n
words: 2.8k
warnings: language 
Cars were your whole life. You grew up in your father’s mechanic shop and learned everything you knew from him. Customers came and went, some more frequently than others, but cars were the one constant thing in your life. You were able to lose yourself in the process of finding and fixing problems, speaking better with parts than with people.
You barely even registered the smell of oil and gasoline anymore. The thin layer of grime that coated your arms was like a second skin, and you were at home here. The cars all around you purred and multiple gaudy sound systems pounded in the crisp night air. The roar of engines was music to your ears, and you had spent the first 45 minutes of the meet up going around looking at the different setups people had.
Now, though, you were doing final checks on the one car that brought you here: Bakugou’s suped up racer. You rebuilt most of the engine yourself, put countless hours into making it faster and stronger. This car was your baby just as much as it was his, and you felt a twinge of nerves knowing what was to come.
“Everything ready down there?” barked the man in question. You finished double checking the last bolt before pushing yourself out from under the vehicle, only to find the blonde staring down at you impatiently.
“Yeah, it looks fine, no thanks to you,” you huffed, sitting up and wiping your hands on a nearby towel. “Listen, I get that you’re gonna go hard tonight, but if you fuck this car up again, I swear I’m done with you.” You put as much threat into your voice as possible as you stood, putting a hand to your hip and glaring at him.
A sly grin split his sharp features. “Aww come on, Y/N, we both know you wouldn’t give up that easy on her,” he taunted, placing an elbow on top of the car and rapping it with his knuckles. “You love her too much.”
He wasn’t wrong, this car was your pride and joy. “You’re right. It’s the person inside I’m worried about,” you rolled your eyes and turned away to open the hood. You had already triple checked everything underneath, but you needed something to occupy yourself with, so you didn’t have to be around Bakugou.
You had known the fired-up blonde ever since middle school, when his dad started coming to yours for maintenance. See, his dad was a local racer, and heard that your dad had the best service around. Well, he would often bring Bakugou in order to teach him about the inner workings of a car. Because of this, the two of you had practically grown up together, spending weekends at the racetrack and weekdays learning what your fathers had to teach you.
But that didn’t mean you liked one another.
Katsuki had always been full of himself. It could have been because of his looks or his dad’s success, or any other factor, you didn’t really care. All you knew was you hadn’t had a normal conversation in longer than you could remember. They always ended in one of you riling the other up, sometimes becoming yelling matches if things got really serious.
You sometimes questioned why you still worked with him, the little asshole. When you both turned 16, your parents decided to buy a junk car, and have you fix it together to test how much you had learned over the years. It took almost 6 months to get it into good shape, but you did it, the only setback being that you were constantly bickering. It was nearly impossible to make decisions about what to do because neither of you wanted to give in to the other.
After that, you continued to work on cars and decided to go to mechanic school after high school. Katsuki went to a traditional 4-year college, and you thought that would be the end of your tormented relationship with him, but no. He contacted you after two years and asked if you would help him with a project, which you agreed to. Ever since then, you’ve become somewhat of a team, travelling around the country to compete in race after race. Some were sanctioned and official, while others tore through backroads and had come to an end when the cops arrived.
Bakugou was one of the best street racers in the country, pushing himself and his vehicle harder than most were willing to do. His lack of inhibition and self-confidence were the keys to his success. Well, those and the fact that you were always there to fix up the damage he caused. You had been doing this together for four years, now each 24 years old, and you couldn’t help but admit that these races made you feel… alive. The whine of an engine as it shoots past you at near top speed, the screeching of tires as they skidded around tight turns, it was all like a fever dream.
The only issue with Bakugou’s racing was he tended to be reckless. Scuffed paint jobs, cracked tire plates, he always pushed his cars to their very limit and made you deal with fixing his mess afterword. Yes, sometimes he would help you, but seeing as you were the actual mechanic on the team you were stuck with the majority, if not all of the work.
“This race’ll be easy, Y/N. Don’t even worry. I mean, we’re gonna be on a dirt road in the middle of a field for god’s sakes, at least there are no buildings or streetlights to worry about,” he called from his place beside the car.
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” you groaned. “You’ll look at that open road and think it’s okay to push as hard as you can!”
“Babe, that’s what makes me so good,” he chuckled, stepping up beside you at the hood.
He always did that, calling you pet names just to piss you off. It always did, making your insides squirm with distaste. At least, you told yourself it was distaste.
“You’ve already checked this thing like four times, just settle down it’s fine.” His voice, normally course like metal grating together, had a softer edge to it. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his crimson ones, and nodded. Pulling the hood shut, you turned around and leaned against it, crossing your arms. You looked over Bakugou as he pulled out his phone to send a text.
He’d recently gotten a haircut, shaving the sides of his head short and leaving the top to its normal spikes, and you had to admit, you thought it suited him better. It showed off his sharp jawline, which had only grown sharper as you got older. His bare arms were cut, unsurprising as he spent a great deal of time in the gym. He wore his signature high-necked black cutoff with a bold red X on the front, with army green cargo pants that cinched at the ankles. As per usual when he raced, he did his dramatic eye black to intimidate his opponents. It usually worked.
“Listen, I just don’t want you messing her up again, okay? I put so much into this car and the past three races I’ve had to set aside hours to fix her. I can’t keep doing that when I have paying customers that need my help too,” you tried to explain calmly. His head snapped up.
“I’m a paying customer too, don’t I get the same attention that your others get?”
“You’re more of a…side hustle.” The words came out with a bit of a grin.
One of his arched eyebrows raised dangerously. “A side hustle? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Working with you is like a second job. I spend so much time on this damn car, and looking at your ugly mug, that it’s like working another part-time job on top of the shop.”
His lips turned down in a scowl and he took a menacing step forward. “First off, you get half the earnings every time I win. I don’t have to do that. Second, I’m hot as fuck, thank you very much.”
You scoffed. “You’re average at best,” you lied. You agreed with him of course, but you’d never tell him that even if you were on your deathbed. “Also, the earnings are the way you pay me for all the shit I do for you, remember? That’s the agreement. Plus, most of that money goes right back into her,” you smacked the hood. “So, in reality you pay way less than any of my other costumers.”
He paused at this, taking in your words. “Guess you like me that much, huh,” he chuckled after a moment. The words brought a flush to your face, and you silently thanked the fact that it was nighttime, and the only illumination came from the cars around you.
“No, it’s just because I’ve known you for years. Sometimes I consider upping your rates though, just to piss you off.”
That got him scowling again, an expression that made you much more comfortable than that devious smirk. “I hope you know your sense of humor really sucks.”
“Bakugou!” A rough voice called from behind the blonde, making him roll his eyes and turn around.
“What do you want, shark week?” He growled, facing Kirishima who was making his way over with a smile.
“Just came to make sure you were still up for this race,” the red head grinned, displaying his sharp teeth.
“You really think I’d back down against someone like you?” Bakugou crossed his arms and relaxed onto one leg. “This is gonna be easy as shit.”
Kirishima chuckled, “Don’t count me out so quick man, might not be as easy as you think.” He glanced over Bakugou’s shoulder and spotted you behind him. “Hey Y/N, you here to patch his ass up after the race?”
“You know me so well, Kiri,” you smirked. Bakugou let out a grunt, punching Kirishima’s shoulder playfully, the other man simply laughing at the disgruntled racer. “Best of luck out there,” you smiled genuinely. You had known Kirishima since high school, where he and Bakugou were best friends. They frequently raced these days, constantly trying to one up each other and keeping a running tally of who won. Currently Bakugou was up by two, if you remembered correctly.
“Thanks Y/N, your faith means the world,” he replied with another toothy smile.
“Hey, quit trying to poach my mechanic,” Bakugou yelled spiritedly.
At this, Kirishima simply laughed, turning to leave. “Just came to say good luck man, I would never try to steal her away from ya. You’re like a match made in heaven. I don’t know anyone else who could put up with your bullshit.”
“I don’t know of anyone else either, I’m really doing the world a favor, huh,” you called, loving the way your blonde partner whirled around and glared at you.
“See you guys after the race!” And with that, Kiri was walking back to his own car.
Bakugou stood there for a moment before turning around to return to the car. He was quiet for a moment before speaking up. “Y’know, you don’t have to keep working with me if you don’t want to. I’ll understand if you don’t…” he said, so softly you almost didn’t hear.
You looked over at him in surprise, “What do you mean, I never said I don’t want to work with you.” It was so unlike him to say things like this that you were completely taken aback.
“It didn’t sound like that just now,” he grumbled, not looking at you. “I know I can be a lot to handle, so I guess I wouldn’t blame you.”
You chuckled, making him look up curiously. “Bakugou, I’m a lot to put up with too. I’ve known you for long enough that it doesn’t even phase me anymore,” you said honestly.
He stared at you for a moment longer than necessary, making you flush slightly. “Yeah, whatever,” he growled in classic Bakugou fashion.
“Racers!” came a shout from nearby. The official of the race stood between the two cars, looking to the two men. “Are you both ready to go?” Both gave a thumbs up, and the man nodded. “Come line up at the start then!”
Bakugou took a deep breath before putting on his jet-black helmet and getting into his car with a sharp slam of his door. You moved away from the vehicle to let him go line up before returning to the side to say your final words to him. “Remember what I said,” you warned, leaning against the rolled down window. “Don’t fuck her up this time, got it?”
He smirked at you and narrowed his eyes. “There’s nothing to worry about Y/N, this is an easy course.” “It better be, for your sake,” you rolled your eyes with a grin. You loved how amped up he got at the starting line.
“See you on the other side, kid,” he nodded. You gave him a thumbs up and stepped away from the car. The official made his way into the center of the two cars, and you made yours over to your pickup truck to watch the race. You climbed up into the bed and leaned against the cabin to look over the field. From up there you could see almost the entire track, and since the cars’ lights would be on you wouldn’t have any problem keeping track of them.
You watched as the official signaled to prepare to start, the engines of both cars revving loudly. A crowd had gathered to watch, and you smirked, knowing that only got Bakugou more amped. Loudly counting down from three, the official dropped the flag and the two vehicles were off, tearing into the darkness as fast as possible.
Bakugou accelerated just a bit faster, edging in front of Kirishima, who swerved slightly to avoid him. They made their way around the course, Bakugou maintaining the lead for most of the time, but losing it several times. Nearing one of the final bends, you saw the headlights on Bakugou’s car dip dramatically and fall a bit behind Kirishima’s for a moment before pulling back ahead. You got a bad feeling in your stomach at that. However, it was over in an instant, the blonde coming in first by a decent margin.
As he got out of the car, Bakugou was swarmed by the crowd. It took you a moment to make it out in the semidarkness and jumble of bodies, but as you hopped out of the bed of your truck and made your way over to Bakugou, you spotted it. The left half of his front bumper was crumpled and scraped. Anger swelled in your stomach, and you pushed forward with renewed vigor, shoving people aside and coming to a halt in front of the man in question.
“What the fuck Bakugou?! What did I tell you literally RIGHT before you left?” You got in his face as he took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm. “Look at your fucking bumper! How the hell do you explain that, huh?!” Your anger at his carelessness blinded you to the way he was looking at you, the hunger in his eyes.
Just as you were about to go off again, you felt his hand grasping your chin roughly. This was such an unexpected move that your mind blanked in the seconds to come. “God you’re fuckin sexy when you’re mad,” Bakugou growled, pausing a moment before hungrily pressing his lips to yours. The first thing you registered was the heat. They were burning against yours, and they were soft, much softer than you would have guessed.
Snapping back to yourself, you put a hand on his chest – his muscular chest – and pushed away. You looked away, trying to clear your head. “Woah, you can’t just… kiss me…” you gasped.
“Why not?” He murmured in your ear, absolutely glowing with his victory. He was always an impulsive guy, but that doubled when he won. He was known to break things when he beat someone, so part of you wasn’t surprised that he did that, but it was so unexpected that you never would have thought it would happen.
You looked up at him and found a grin resting on his lips. You felt something in you snap, something that had been holding you back from what you’d wanted to do so many times before but never had the courage to do. Giving a minute shrug, you said fuck it and went in again. It wasn’t a sweet kiss though. He threaded his fingers through your hair, and the hand holding his helmet released it, coming to dig into your waist. It was hot and heavy, filled with anger and pent up emotion and victory. It was a kiss years in the making, and you couldn’t deny that you wanted it to happen. This man was leaving tire tracks on your heart, driving right through the barriers you tried to put up to block him out.
And you were okay with that.
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spaceskam · 3 years
Text
Pretty Little Picture (3/3)
okay so TECHNICALLY this was for day 3 of @malex-cupid but then ice robbed me of my wifi for like two days. So here is now. Whoops. (thanks for reading!)
warning for mild sexual content which i forgot to say at the beginning of the last chapter my b
ao3
Alex woke up to a heavyweight on his spine.
It took him a few moments to register it and he had to crane his neck a bit, but, sure enough, Michael was passed out against his back. His cheek was smushed against it and he was definitely drooling a little bit, but Alex didn’t mind. With a sigh, he let his head fall back against the pillow.
His eyes closed as he thought about the night before. About kissing and touching every inch of him that he could. Neither of them really anticipated that, so they didn’t have lube to do anything too strenuous, but they definitely managed to have fun regardless. Maybe it was too early, but he didn’t regret it. It felt good and they worked weirdly well together.
However, the peace of it all only lasted a few minutes before Michael’s alarm started to go off.
“Why does the world hate me?” Michael whined, slowly peeling himself off of Alex to go turn it off. In that time, Alex flipped onto his back. It didn’t stop Michael from falling right back down onto his chest. “You don’t have any chest hair.”
“Good morning to you too, I guess,” Alex laughed, raking his hands through Michael’s fucked up hair. They needed a shower. They were going to take one the night before, but they very quickly got distracted. “I shave it or get it waxed, it gets itchy.”
“Really?” Michael said, scratching his chest gently, “Mine doesn’t.”
“I think it really only starts getting itchy once you’ve started shaving it. Like Liz says she doesn’t get how Max has such hairy legs without it being itchy because hers get that way if she tries to go more than a week,” Alex explained, yawning halfway through. Michael hummed thoughtfully and then turned to prop his chin upon his chest.
“Sounds plausible,” Michael decided. Alex hummed softly, letting his eyes slip closed out of pure selfish reasons. He was warm and comfortable and he didn’t want to get up. “We can stay in bed a little later if you want. Brunch instead of breakfast, remember.”
“How long until then? ‘Cause we both need showers,” Alex pointed out. Michael shifted, moving up a bit more until Alex sensed him just hovering above. He opened his eyes slowly to look at him.
“Two hours,” Michael said softly, eyes drifting across his face, “But we could take one together. Save water and time.”
Alex huffed a laugh, rubbing his hand up and down his arm before leading it up to his neck.
“Genius.”
“Yeah.”
Michael moved down, kissing him much slower than he had the night before. He let the rest of his body press up against Alex which made it very clear he hadn’t bothered to put any clothes on. Alex had at least remembered boxers.
“You’re so warm,” Alex said fondly, his hand gliding over his broad shoulders and the dip of his back.
 Michael smiled softly, his nose nudging against Alex’s before his tongue made its way into his mouth without hesitation. Alex tugged him closer and kissed him deeper, not quite ready to let him go. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready to let him go.
Alex wasn't sure how long they laid there just kissing as if they did this all the time. Maybe they could make it a new habit because it was just... nice. Nice to wake up and have him there and have full reign.
Michael was his roommate. They'd lived together for three years. How the hell hadn't this occurred to him before? And this... this wasn't even a stupid crush that he had because Michael was doting on him. He liked him. He *wanted this.
However, Alex managed to keep his expectations low despite his desires being high. They fell into bed the night before under the understanding that this was just a one-time thing, friends helping friends, they were already pretending to date and so why not? That was the precedent. Alex couldn't and wouldn't expect more.
"Do you know what today is?" Michael asked as he broke the kiss and slowly started leaving soft pecks down his neck. Alex snorted.
"Don't be cheesy."
"It's Valentine's day," he said anyway, "I didn't get you anything."
"I didn't expect you to get me anything."
"Well, that makes me a bad boyfriend," Michael hummed, lifting himself up just enough to look at him in the eye, "So what do you want?"
"You really don’t wanna ask me that,” Alex whispered, eyes training on his mouth. He put his hand on Michael’s cheek and let his thumb graze his bottom lip. Michael took a shaky breath.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” Alex said as he took a deep breath and watched Michael follow his thumb with his tongue, “Might make you fall in love with me.”
Michael huffed a laugh, smiling wider by the second. Alex liked the way it felt. He liked how all of this felt.
“Alex,” he said, shaking his head a bit. Alex raised an eyebrow but didn’t get to say anything before Michael started gravitating down. “Alex. Tell me what you want.”
Alex replaced his thumb with his lips, breathing him in. He arched his back into him and reveled in the feeling of skin on skin. How had he not wanted this before the weekend?
Simple, he realized after a few seconds of thought, he had wanted it before. He just didn’t notice that it was an option. And, it wasn’t. Not really. This was temporary. But, God, it felt good.
“This. I just want this,” Alex said, voice barely a whisper and somehow still a beg.
Michael, ever the obedient caretaker, slipped his hand behind his back while the other went to his knee and hiked his leg up onto his hip. Alex’s hand slipped into his hair and kissed him deeper. He swallowed every noise he made.
Alex had known he was gay for as long as he could remember. He’d hooked up with boys from all walks of life since he moved for college: pretentious young artists, bratty trust-fund babies, a couple of football players who weren’t out yet, and a rich 50-year-old who very clearly had a lot of experience. None of it held a candle to this, to Michael kissing him and grinding against him and choosing this over spending time making good impressions.
That almost made it more surreal, that he was choosing this. He could’ve woken up awkward, could’ve blamed it on the wine, but he instead kissed and touched Alex more. It felt like he was being lit on fire from the inside in the best way.
Michael moved his hand between them, palming Alex over his boxers with no shame.
“I can’t believe we, two adult queer men, didn’t fucking bring lube or more than the one condom you had stuffed in your duffle bag,” Alex groaned, feeling a bit lightheaded as Michael didn’t stop. He just laughed softly, rocking against him.
“It’d been a little presumptuous if we had, don’t you think?” Michael asked. Alex genuinely, from the bottom of his heart, didn’t give a fuck about being presumptuous anymore. “I mean, if you wanna try, we can‒”
“Nope.”
Michael laughed, “You didn’t even hear what I was gonna say!”
“I know you. Spit only works if you want it to hurt,” Alex said. Michael huffed a laugh, tongue flicking across Alex’s lips because that’s apparently something he thought was a calm and collected thing to do.
“Fair enough. But if you wanna‒”
“No, nope,” Alex laughed, slapping his hand over his mouth. Michael beamed at him. “I’m not so impatient that I’ll risk a trip to the hospital. And we still don’t have a condom, so I can wait.”
Michael twisted his head until Alex moved it off his mouth, favored the feeling of raking it through his hair. His face went all soft in response like a cat that sincerely wanted to be pet. Alex scratched his scalp for extra measure.
“Fine,” Michael hummed, “We can wait.”
And Alex was quite sure he was going to fucking explode at this point. Waiting implied it was going to happen again and not when they were in this little bubble where they were boyfriends, but when they got home and were back to normal.
“Let’s go take a shower,” Alex said softly, needing to stay busy before he got his hopes up too high.
Michael nodded and got up slowly, leaving him with a few more kisses before he climbed out of bed. He stretched up and Alex took in the shape of him. His muscular back, his long torso, his tan skin, his nice ass.
He was so completely and utterly fucked.
-
“Okay, wait, how do you do this?”
“It’s not hard.”
“Clearly it is because I have no idea how you make it look good.”
Alex was grinning so wide it hurt as he watched Michael through the mirror. Michael had taken ahold of the blow dryer in the middle of Alex drying his hair and did it for him, combing through it and everything. When it got the pair Alex usually just pulled it back into a little ponytail and ruffled what didn’t fit, Michael got that intense look on his face and his tongue stuck out of his mouth as he tried to figure it out. Alex was giddy as he tied it back, decided it looked wrong, and took it down over and over. 
“My hair is short, it’s not going to be perfect,” Alex said. When he’d gotten it cut the last time, they’d cut it to be chin-length (three inches shorter than requested) and he was still dealing with the consequences of not just driving down to Roswell to have Maria do it. “Just take your thumbs, try to get an even amount from both sides, and tie up the top half.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing.”
“And it’s looked fine. I’m gonna have to wash my hair all over again if you don’t stop soon,” Alex teased. Michael scrunched up his nose irritably and rolled his eyes. He took a deep breath and tried one more time. It looked nearly identical. “See? It looks fine.”
“How do you make yourself look so good? I’d be jealous if I didn’t get the benefit of looking at you every day,” Michael said. Alex rolled his eyes, but couldn’t deny the warm feeling that rushed through his system.
“Luck.”
“Mm, I believe it,” Michael hummed, moving some of Alex’s hair out of the way to leave a kiss on his neck. Soft and sweet and definitely not long enough. “Okay, okay, get away from me or I’m going to drag you back to bed.”
“See, that’s not going to convince me to get away from you.”
“No lube, no condom,” Michael recited, like a mantra that was more for himself than Alex as he took a backward step towards his bag. It reminded him that he was still in just a towel.
“Are you so boring that you can’t think of anything to do with those limitations?” Alex asked. Michael swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and turned around.
“It’s on days like these I ask myself, ‘Self, why have you let yourself be drawn in by lust and temptation? Is it not enough to admire from afar?’” Michael spoke wistfully as he dug through his bag. Childish giggles slipped through Alex’s mouth. “No, apparently, it’s not. I’ve been a respectful roommate and upstanding member of society, keeping my thoughts to myself for years and then I get one taste and I’m nothing but a useless sack of needing-to-pleasure-Alex cells. That’s it.”
“Years, huh?” Alex asked. Michael froze for a moment before he shook it off and pulled out a pair of chinos and a collared shirt. 
“No. I don’t know, maybe. Yeah. I don’t know,” Michael mumbled, dropping his towel. Alex bit down on his bottom lip and took a very careful breath, trying not to do something embarrassing like twirl around the room and sing I Feel Pretty at the top of his lungs.
Definitely feeling pretty and witty and gay at moment.
Instead of focusing on that‒because, wow, that’s a lot to focus on‒Alex took out his eyeliner and drew his wings a bit more bold than he had been the last two days. Riding on that high, he even flipped his septum down. If Michael thought it’d be a problem, he’d tell him before they got downstairs. Hopefully. One of Michael’s female coworkers had multi-colored hair so it should be fine.
He took a step back and looked over himself. Black checkered pants, a loose black button-up that was half tucked in and half out, his hair a Michael special. He looked good. He felt better.
By the time he picked up his phone, he realized he hadn’t actually texted Liz since The Before and she was probably freaking out. As told by her series of messages.
Liz: HELLO ALEX HE DID W H A T?
Liz: Do I need to get Isobel on his ass? 
Liz: Are you okay? It’s been a couple hours
Liz: Text me when you can and let me know if I need to come rescue you in the middle of the night
Liz: It’s the middle of the night, I’m going to bed, so I hope you don’t need saving.
Liz: However, if you don’t text me by tomorrow, I will assume you have been murdered and I will be filing a police report.
Liz: It’s currently 7:30 AM. You have until 10 before I assume the worst.
Alex: jesus liz
Liz: OH NOW HE ANSWERS 
Alex: I am in fact alive
Liz: What happened last night??? You went MIA 
Alex: ……….
Liz: NO YOU DID NOT
Alex: Listen. He’s really good at giving head.
Liz: I could’ve gone my whole life without knowing that but OH MY GOD
Liz: WHAT HAPPENED TO SELF CONTROL
Alex: Went out the door along with my dignity apparently
Liz: For real tho are you okay? That probably wasn’t great for your crush
Alex: I think it’ll be okay. I’m not keeping my hopes up or anything and I’m gonna have a real conversation with him once we leave, but for right now I’m content with him kissing me constantly
Liz: Oh shit it’s still going on?
Alex: It is still going on 😌
Alex: Remind me next time I go on a random trip with someone that even if I don’t expect to get laid I should bring condoms
Liz: omg Alex did you pay attention to sex ed at all
Alex: literally no I did not, half of it was no use to me
Liz: sigh. What am I going to do with you
“Alright, let’s go get brunch. Don’t let me have mimosas because if I drink at all, I can’t promise I won’t get myself fired,” Michael said. Alex slipped his phone into his back pocket to look at him, a grin easily finding his face.
“Aw, you look like such a little frat boy.”
“I am in a fraternity.”
“We don’t talk about that, it’s bad for my health,” Alex said, tilting his head back as Michael moved in and grabbed his hips. One hand moved up to his chin, holding him in place as he kissed him. “Can I have mimosas, though? I promise not to get messy.”
“You can have literally whatever you want,” Michael murmured against his mouth, leaving him one more kiss before he pulled away. “Let’s go.”
Somehow, going downstairs and parading in front of everyone as a couple didn’t feel any different than it had the first two days. They made small talk and ate good food and Alex drank two mimosas alongside Michael’s coffee.
“I can’t get over how cute you two are,” Alisha said, somehow having found her way to them again. Alex gave a warm smile despite wanting to slip and hide beneath the table at the sight of her. In her defense, so did the sight of everyone else. “You’re literally, like, glowing.”
“Well, what can I say? He just does something to me,” Michael said wistfully, giving Alex a face that said he was teasing. Alex held back a smile.
“It’s like you’re still in the honeymoon phase!” Alisha said. Alex almost laughed out loud that that. They kind of were in the honeymoon phase. It would just be drastically shorter than everyone else’s because it would end by the time they got home tonight.
That alone was almost laughably horrible.
“It’s easy when he’s got a face like that,” Michael cooed, reaching out to pinch his cheek. Alex laughed and leaned away only to be tugged back closer. 
It was going to be weird when Michael wasn’t attached to his side anymore.
After brunch, they were supposed to have a nature walk again, but before Michael and Alex could go on their way, Jeannie and Curtis called them back. A few other interns turned and looked, but they went on their merry way until it was basically just the four of them.
“Come walk with us for a bit, I wanted to show you two my favorite place,” Jeannie said, a big smile on her face. Alex locked eyes with Michael for a moment and then they began to follow.
“You know, Michael, I was going through all the supervisor notes that Khalil has for your group. You’re a standout. Very focused and hardworking, but I see it’s probably helpful that you have a strong support system,” Curtis pointed out as they walked. The two of them were much more appropriately dressed for a nature walk than Michael and Alex, but, in their defense, they just planned to go to the creek again. 
“Thank you, Sir,” Alex said before Michael had the chance to, “He deserves it.”
“I think so too,” Curtis said, warm and fatherly and Michael found Alex’s hand and squeezed, “You make a good team. I’ve watched how you know when to let the other do the talking when they’ll be better equipped. That’s very important if you want to climb ranks.”
Alex raised a suggestive eyebrow at Michael who just held onto him tighter. He rubbed the back of his hand with his thumb in hopes it’d help him calm down.
“Alex, when are you set to graduate?”
“This fall, if all goes well. Taking a couple of summer classes to help get there,” Alex said. Curtis nodded and looked over at Michael.
“And you’re set to graduate this semester,” he said‒not a question. Michael nodded evenly, eyes flitting to Alex as if looking for permission. Alex nodded back. “What’s the plan for after college?”
“Well, I already take piano gigs for some of the local schools’ choirs and give a few piano lessons to a few young kids, hoping to expand though. My kind of thing can pretty much go anywhere,” Alex said, knowing it sounded good. No big, painful uproot if he needed Michael in a different branch somewhere across the US. You know‒because to him they were together. Long term.
“And I’m just hoping to keep working for Disionic in any way I can,” Michael said. Alex squeezed his hand in approval.
“For how long, do you think?” Jeannie asked. Michael’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked over at Alex. He mouthed a ‘forever’ at him, watched him gulp, and smiled encouragingly. It was a big and false commitment. Big companies really liked it when they feel you’ve signed your life away to them.
“For as long as I can.”
“And you’d be willing to go to other branches if we needed you? We’ve got a branch in New York and Houston, but we plan to open another at some point in the next five years. And hopefully expanding in some other, more inventive work. Would you be interested in that, Michael?” Jeannie said.
Alex had always been aware that, when it came to things like this, there was an important balance between partners. Curtis wasn’t wrong in saying that a nice balance, knowing who needs to speak when, was important and helpful. Alex had been under the impression that while Jeannie was the warm one who was probably a fantastic hostess and enjoyed it, Curtis was the strong businessman who really only focused on the business part of things. Now, Alex quickly caught up to the realization that, while that may be true, Jeannie called the shots.
For a stupid second, Alex pictured him and Michael like that in a few years.
Funny how he spent his whole life wanting to get away from that environment and 1.5 hookups later, he was ready to sign up for a lifetime of being a good hostess.
“Absolutely, Mrs. Iverson. I-I’m obviously still learning how everything like this works, but I’m a fast learner,” Michael insisted. Jeannie laughed.
“I hope to watch you do that over the next couple of years,” Jeannie said, “Right, Curtis?”
“Nothing’s official yet,” he said, looking over at Michael with a fond smile, “But I do think there’s a more permanent spot for you in our business.”
Again with the squeezing Alex’s hand so hard it nearly hurt. 
“After you graduate, of course,” Jeannie tacked on.
“After you graduate.”
“Thank you so much,” Michael said, trying to keep his excitement to the bare minimum. 
Alex thought it was adorable though he didn’t know why he was so surprised. Michael had regularly gained favoritism from many, many people throughout his life. Teachers, bosses, baristas, the bus driver that would literally wait for him if he was running a few minutes late. Michael was an easy face to love and he worked hard and he was endlessly kind.
And each moment that passed Alex wondered how he’d been so blind to his own favoritism.
“Oh, and here’s what I wanted to show you,” Jeannie said as they started moving uphill a bit.
They stopped as they got to the edge, a cliff that overlooked a decent-sized body of water. It must’ve been where the little creek they’d sat by yesterday led to. There was a metaphor in there somewhere.
“This is where my Curtis brought me nearly 25 years ago now where he told me everything he wanted to do in the future and asked me to be a part of it,” Jeannie said, looking up at Curtis with a nearly disgustingly fond look. Alex wanted that. “I think it’s a good place to talk.”
“And, speaking of, Alvaro is calling,” Curtis said as his phone started ringing. He gave a polite nod and turned, immediately answering the call in Spanish. Alex was actually pretty impressed with his accent.
“Right, well, let me go make sure he places nice. You two have fun and make sure you come to sit by us at lunch, alright?” Jeannie said, waving goodbye as she followed her husband down the slope.
Michael and Alex didn’t speak as they waited impatiently for them to get out of sight and, hopefully, out of earshot.
“Alex,” Michael whispered, “Alex, I think I’m going to throw up.”
“What, why? Are you okay?” Alex asked, letting go of his hand to rub his back. Michael’s face, finally free of schooling himself for Jeannie and Curtis, was full of pure shock and disbelief. “Hey, this is a good thing.”
“I know it’s a good thing, it-it just feels really real all of the sudden. Like. Really real. Like, I don’t get it levels of real. I’m not supposed to have this,” Michael whispered, shaking his head as he looked out to the water. Alex took a step closer.
“What are you talking about? You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met and you’ve worked your ass off. You deserve this more than anyone,” Alex insisted. Michael shook his head.
“I’m supposed to still be barely scraping by in Roswell. I’m-I’m never supposed to get out. I’m supposed to become another statistic,” Michael said, looking over at Alex with furrowed eyebrows, “I’m only here because you gave me a place to live.”
“Shut up, I didn’t do anything. You would’ve found a way and you would’ve been right here with or without me giving you a place to live,” Alex insisted, “That was purely selfish reasons, too, I didn’t wanna live alone.”
“But Curtis was right. I-I get by because, like, a support system. I get by ‘cause of you,” Michael said. Alex again rolled his eyes.
“You’re giving me way too much credit here. You’ve got Isobel and Max and a whole group of friends. And back in Roswell you’ve got Sanders and Mimi and Arturo who would’ve done anything to see you thrive. And that’s not even counting the tons of people who gave you opportunities. Look, you’re definitely lucky and you could’ve very easily ended up stuck in Roswell without a little of that luck, but you’re also hardworking and smart. Playing the system is a part of this life we’ve been dealt, okay? And you’re playing it well,” Alex explained. Michael took a deep breath.
“You play it better,” he whispered.
“Will you stop making this about me?” Alex laughed, putting his hand on his cheek, “You’ve done great this entire weekend and clearly well enough for the last few months if Khalil talked you up that much.”
Michael stared at him for a long few seconds, silence. He looked tired and overwhelmed in a way he hadn’t this morning like everything had suddenly just hit him. Alex tried not to get worried about what else might’ve just hit him. He leaned forward despite himself and kissed his cheek slowly before pulling back, smiling in the most encouraging way possible.
“What if I don’t want to do it without you?” Michael asked.
Alex blinked once, twice, three times as he processed his words. He didn’t move away.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, we make a good team. And… And I like having this with you. I like doing this. I’m comfortable with you and I trust you and I’m not nervous,” Michael said, huffing a soft laugh as he looked away for a moment before looking back, “Everything else is new and scary and way out of my depth and, like, technically you are too, but you don’t feel like it. You feel safe. And I wanna do this with you. Charm the pants off of rich people and then have sex in rooms they pay for. Or in our own bed or whatever. You get the point.”
“Yeah,” Alex whispered, taking a shaky breath and he really thought about just stripping and jumping into the water below. He probably would’ve if he knew it was deep enough. “I think I get it.”
“I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” Michael said, then quickly looked at him with wide eyes, “That’s definitely not me saying our first ‘I love you’, I’m just, like, saying.” Alex laughed, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he nodded. “Thing is, I didn’t realize we’d be a good fit. Or that we’d be too risky and it’d be messy if we broke up. Now… Now I feel stupid for not noticing it before. You literally feel perfect to me, for me. That’s dumb. This is embarrassing. I just wanna kiss you and pretend I’m Robin Hood and do scandalous things like feel you up beneath the table while my boss sits across from us for, like, the rest of my life or whatever.”
“Michael,” Alex laughed, putting his other hand on his other cheek and just holding him in place, “Want me to say something even more embarrassing?”
“Yeah,” Michael said, eyes shining a bit more. He still looked overwhelmed, but it was a bit better. 
Alex took a deep breath and looked as serious as he could muster, looking into his eyes.
“Will you be my Valentine?” Alex asked. Michael’s face scrunched up and he laughed, grabbing Alex’s hips and tugging him closer.
“That was disgusting, boyfriend,” Michael said as they stood nose to nose. Alex was giddy with it. He didn’t have to get his hopes up when Michael was already there to meet them.
And maybe Alex had a shot at a future full of it.
“C’mere, boyfriend.”
Alex: something may or may not have transpired
Liz: Oh???
Alex: so, like, that little crush? Very big. Very reciprocated.
Liz: OMG. KNEW IT.
Alex: no you did not
Liz: Michael has literally been giving you heart eyes since before he knew he was queer. I so knew it. Isobel called it first tho 
Alex: and you said NOTHING to me???
Liz: As if you’d believe me
Liz: Besides I didn’t know if he knew yet or if he was actually willing to pursue so I wasn’t gonna make it worse
Alex: so rude
Alex: I’m gonna go make out with my boyfriend now and fantasize about being his housewife 
Liz: LMAO you could never be a housewife
Alex: no I’d hate it but that’s why it’s staying a fantasy
Liz: HAVE FUN
Alex: absolutely will
90 notes · View notes
tundrainafrica · 3 years
Text
Title: Lovebug (13/14)
Summary:
“It might be a bug.”
“A bug?”
“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“
Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.
Link to cross-postings: AO3
Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Notes: Feedback is very much appreciated :D
With attire alone, Levi was already a fish out of water.
As the seconds ticked though, his self consciousness only grew.
It wasn’t just an issue of clothing. Too many things had been against him the whole way to the dinner room. The white and silver of the windows of the private dinner room in the hotel reflected the setting sun, the marble floors, the glass bridge, the carpeted floors.
The scenery was only half the battle though. The men and women strode in and out of the dinner room with attire much grander than is. There were leather bags, the jewelry and constantly hovering in the air were the business vernacular that fell into one ear and out the order.
There were too many conversations on mergers, acquisitions, business climates, market prices he could never be part of. And his own direct companions weren’t making it any better.
As Levi soon understood, it wasn’t their job to make him feel comfortable anyway.
“Yelena,” he repeated, a memory exercise for himself. The whole journey from the convention center on the first floor to one of the rooms in the mid floor of the hotel was silent and long. In the sea of business pleasantries though, it seemed ironic that the blonde had never even made conversation beyond her own name.
Even as she sat next to him on the dinner table, she didn’t speak, not even bothering to respond to her own name. She was too close though, only a few inches away that Levi swore she had heard it.
“That’s your name right?” Levi added. He couldn’t think of much else to say. After blurting her name mindlessly, with Porco and Pieck seated just in front of him, looking at him expectantly, he knew he had to continue with something.
“I introduced myself back in the lobby already,” Yelena finally responded.
“You did,” Levi said.
“Is there anything you want to ask?” Yelena asked, no hint of benevolence in her tone.
Levi had been rolling on the bed, in and out of sleep the whole day. He didn’t trust himself to say anything else. He didn’t trust himself to think.
Yelene had a knowing look on her face, as if she knew something he didn’t. And she seemed to be enjoying it. Since a while ago, she hadn’t at all been subtle with the fact that somehow, by just their first meeting, Levi had managed to rub her the wrong way. It wasn’t too radical of an idea, that she may enjoy his pain.
Levi’s mind was suddenly racing, reminding him why he had even considered going in the first place. Is there anything you wanna ask?  Those words echoed for a while longer. The longer he sat there silently, the more restless he became. He avoided her gaze, looking behind her, then behind Porco and Pieck, taking in his surroundings again. He was observing mannerisms, branded bags, branded ties, branded purses and Zeke in the middle of all of it, going from one table to the other.
Eventually, after the discomfort settled, Levi realized he was torturing himself for a reason.
Hange wasn’t there. And he shouldn’t have needed that long look to notice it. But you’ve given up already? Right?
“You’re not going to eat?” Pieck was a lot more friendly. There was a huge difference between being polite and being friendly and Levi suspected, he was only seeing politeness as friendliness given the stark contrast of Yelena’s overall approach towards him
In the air, tension hung so thick. Levi didn’t notice a piece of bread and a bowl of soup had been served in front of him. “I will.” He immediately went for the spoon in front of him.
“That’s the spoon for the main course,” Yelena said.
“What?” By the second, Levi was starting to realize how disconnected he actually was. Around the soup, there were spoons, forks and knives in multiple sizes. In a panic, Levi had looked around to see it was the same for everyone else.
Yet, everyone else knew how to navigate such a complex design.
“The small one is the soup spoon.” Pieck was helpful at least. “No, that’s the tea spoon,” she added as she looked pointedly at the smallest one Levi had taken hold of.
Levi was familiar enough with tea to be familiar with the size of the teaspoon. At that point though, who cared what spoon he ate with? He wasn’t there to dine.
By some pride or just utter frustration at the whole situation, the spoon debacle was never solved and Levi never touched his soup that night. He closed himself off from everything else, keeping his world closed to anything but the entrance, Zeke, the crowds, and the one familiar face he wanted to see.
But Hange never showed up.
“She’s not coming. If that’s what you’re thinking.” Yelena could have been reading his mind.
“Who’s not coming?” Levi asked. He widened his eyes in mock surprise but he kept his voice toneless. In his mind, that seemed like a good balance to display both calm and disconnect.
Yelena never answered the question. Maybe she knew silence was the right answer, that is, if her attention had been to keep his insides boiling in frustration, his mind racing.
The grin on her face only proved it. Maybe that was her intention.
It only got worse though as the night dragged on and Levi noticed his own restlessness around the salad course that he could barely even look at.
He could barely coordinate his hands. His legs were trembling.
Those few moments he focused on evening out his breathing, he was able to grip the spoon, then the steak knife as the main course came in.
As if to add salt to whatever wound she had, Yelena commented abruptly. “It’s not everyday people like you will be able to get steak like this.”
The steak could have just been soft. Or Levi was recovering. One of those, he couldn’t be too sure. But it was a good steak. He could tell that much. It melted in his mouth and he had spent an inordinate amount of time contemplating how it was physically possible for steak to melt in his mouth.
Then suddenly the delectable steak rotted mid chew. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.” It was as if Yelena was on a mission to be a total buzzkill. Maybe she was being paid by Zeke to do just that.
And she was doing a wonderful job. Levi almost choked on that last piece, his fork fell to his lap. In a bout of embarrassment, he stood up. “Toilet.”
Five minutes and an empty bladder later, whatever peace and calm he had managed to muster alone in the toilet completely dissipated. It seemed like that dinner was also on a mission to make him as miserable as possible even in a supposedly pleasant environment.
“Where’s my steak?” Levi put too much energy into keeping his tone as subdued as possible.
“Oh, you weren’t done?” Pieck asked, seeming genuinely curious.
He had only gotten two bites. Of course, he wouldn’t be done. He was close to raising his hand up to call the waiter until he was reminded, he didn’t even pay for the dinner. Did he even have the right to complain?
At that point, Levi was just a little ticked, his grumbling stomach at having missed three courses over his own discomfort and tense state was already catching up to him. “What made you think I was done?”
“You put your spoon and fork together, like this,” Pieck said. “That means you’re done with the course.” She organized her plate the same way Levi did, for just a second.
Maybe Levi had been too self conscious. In an attempt to seem more posh than he actually was, Levi had channeled his own fastidiousness into putting the utensils together before he left for the toilet.
“I would think someone who works in corporate would know this. This is standard fine dining,” Yelena said nonchalantly.
Fine dining for Levi meant a dinner at a cafe, or a sit down restaurant. The whole world that existed for the sake of fine dining, the course meals, the secret language he didn’t seem to understand felt completely unnecessary. And the longer they sat there as if deliberately keeping him in the dark while he starved, Levi only became more and more impatient.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t have known any better at first,” Levi said.
“I’ve been handling Zeke’s properties overseas for years so I’ve had my fair share of fine dining experience.” She then turned to Pieck and Porco who both nodded. “Even before that, my parents have taught me this. Have yours?”
Levi’s earliest memories of fine dining had been sit down restaurants, diners, nothing too fancy. He shook his head. “Well, I didn’t come here with the intention of dining. You put me on that list yourself, without even waiting for a reply.” He regretted it, as soon as he let it out. His grumbling stomach had him almost out of control.
Yelena raised one eyebrow. “Oh? Then why did you still come, Mr. Ackerman? The free food?”
Levi froze.
“The free food you barely even touched?” Yelena pressed.
And Levi stiffened up, much harder than he would have thought was ‘completely frozen.’
“You have some business to settle with Mr. Jaeger I’m guessing?”
“It’s none of your business.” Levi managed to say.
“I’ve been working for the Jaegers for years. I manage their overseas properties, a few apartments and houses here and there,” she said proudly.
“And?” Levi challenged. “Does that make you entitled to whatever other business Zeke has?”
That question was a response enough. Enough to get Yelena crack, her expression shifted from incredulous, to abrasive to subdued. One eyebrow raised, mouth twitching slightly. “I had to clean up the mess you two left behind.”
Mess? Levi had an inkling of an answer.
A clatter of metal on a plate. “Yelena! Not here,” Pieck said.
“Then we should talk outside then.” Yelena was half way to standing up, before she stopped herself.
Levi found himself following her gaze. The one view that had her frozen in her tracks had been Zeke and before Levi even knew it himself, he was just as surprised as Yelena.
“Should we retire early?” Zeke asked.
“Sir, you haven’t eaten yet,” Yelena argued.
Zeke shook his head. “I hold these dinners to find potential business partners, not to eat.” He turned to Pieck. “I think Pieck can take over from here. I’ll leave you to answer any questions about Jaeger healthcare holdings.”
Pieck nodded. “Yes sir, I’ll take over.”
“No hurry, everyone’s still busy with their meals…” Zeke looked pointedly at his surroundings at the other people. HIs staff table had been conveniently placed by the corner, and it didn’t seem at all like their conversation had been heard by everyone else.
Pieck and Porco were noticeably eating faster, seeming deep in thought. Back into business mode maybe, the caustic exchange of a while ago completely forgotten. Or at least they looked like they were attempting to forget it.
Not burdened with that same responsibility, Yelena didn’t seem to put up any facade. Her own antagonizing attitude towards Levi didn’t falter. Yet somehow, Zeke’s presence had kept her mum, subdued her to just venomous glares.
They exited the dinner hall and made their way out of the hallway, opening up to the open hotel lobby. “We can talk in my private suite,” Zeke said. “I don’t like having a lot of my conversations in public.”
Levi didn’t respond. The glances Yelena snuck him only made it harder to come up with anything more than a few mumbles which he was sure would only make him look pathetic in front of Zeke.
“Did you pay for the flight yourself?” Zeke asked.
Levi nodded. Where’s Hange? That thought tore into his mind so abruptly, Levi found himself having to clamp his mouth shut, much tighter than normal. He couldn’t trust himself to speak. God knows, he might end up asking just that cursed question.
“You’re quiet,” Zeke commented as they entered the elevator. “Did you enjoy dinner?”
Levi nodded and mumbled some hint of a yes.
Zeke raised his eyebrows. “Really what was your favorite course?”
The steak obviously. Even those words got caught somewhere in his throat, admitting to Zeke that he enjoyed the food seemed almost like flaunting himself naked.
Luckily—or unluckily, Zeke didn’t prod, instead going for another speech which made Levi regret keeping silent. “I hold dinners every night for PR, get the right potential partners to the same room, for my healthcare holdings, my supermarket holdings, my…” Zeke rattled on.
To Levi, it felt the blonde had just been jacking himself off instead of actually making conversation. Still, that gave Levi time to think.
Thinking turned out to be a bad thing.
Even before they arrived at the penthouse floor, Levi had to admit, the hotel was posh. The scent of new wood hung in the air, the marble finishings, the lamp made out of metals Levi suspected weren’t easy to acquire. And when they stepped from the elevator wing to the matted floor of the penthouse, whatever plush they used underneath greeted him in some strange manner.
Strangely, Levi felt guilty for dirtying something which he was completely aware was supposed to be dirtied anyway dealing with foot traffic everyday. Then the more they walked, the more self conscious he became of the way he was walking.
Zeke and Yelena both walked ahead with confident strides and Zeke never stopped talking. When Levi found himself listening, he noticed, Zeke's tirades only made the grand hall seem grander, a completely different world to Levi, something he wasn’t supposed to be in.
Was he a visitor. Hell, maybe not even a visitor. A slave? A serf?
“The convention is to attract potential resellers. We’re planning on reselling our research, our products, our technology, to this region...”
They walked towards the end of the hall, stopping in front of some fancy door only accentuated by the plush carpets and the decorative lamps.
“... And this city will be our hub…” It looked like Zeke had been too distracted by his own grand plans to even bother to open the door. It was fortunate then that Yelena had the key and that she knew her way into the presidential suite.
They settled on the sofa in the living rooms, the first room past the foyer.
“We’ll set up office space... Maybe a building...”
It was around then that Levi noticed he hadn’t been offered a seat but he didn’t mind it too much. The multiple sitting rooms, the wide window to one side that gave a good view of the infinity pool on the balcony, and beyond that, a view of the city.
Did Hange get to swim? Levi looked out for a while longer and he couldn’t look away. The longer he looked, the easier it became to imagine her leaning over the infinity pool in her purple bathing suit.
“It will cost a few million dollars…”
Just like in the country club.
“Levi, you want to go for a swim?”
Levi coughed, an instinctive movement. “Sorry… Excuse me, what?”
Zeke looked very unimpressed. It was obviously a joke. “For gods sake, sit down. It’s distracting just watching you stand awkwardly.”
“So why did you invite me here?” Levi asked. If not to listen to you ramble. He added silently to himself.
“I think I have a right to answer first,” Zeke said. He nodded to Yelena. The latter walked away and back to the kitchen. “Why are you here? Don’t tell me you’re here for the convention?”
“What if I am?”
Zeke spared a small grin. He leaned back on the sofa and looked to the side, as if sharing an inside joke with himself. “And do you have plans of investing?”
Millions of dollars. Those three words echoed in Levi’s head. He didn’t have that money and he most likely never would.
Zeke didn’t give him time to speak. “Figures,” he muttered. “So why did you come here?” He asked in a clearer voice.
“You invited m---”
“I wouldn’t have invited you if you weren’t here already,” Zeke said.
Yelena chose that moment to come in between them, a wine bottle on one hand, two wine glasses on the other. Her movements were too casual, the fine dining positions of a while ago seemed almost like a facade.
Zeke gave a nod in thanks. “Sit where you’re comfortable.”
Yelena didn’t hesitate. She settled on one of the sofa chairs, a comfortable distance between them. She mirrored Zeke’s own expression, a mix between mocking and expectant.
It only became harder to speak. When Levi was weighing between speaking up and staying mum, he found, as painful as it was to continue speaking, the outcome seemed more desirable.
At least in his head.
“What’s wrong? Can’t tell me why you visited my convention?” Zeke took a sip of the wine. “Unless it’s something… controversial? Embarrassing? Offensive?.”
Levi felt his skin crawl. Not completely in control of his body, he almost feared his facade cracking and not noticing it. He cleared his throat. “I was going to speak.” He paused, using that moment, to meet Zeke’s eyes. “It’s about Hange.”
“What about my Hange?” Zeke had put too much emphasis in those last two words, it seemed almost out of place. In one sleek movement, he straightened up on his seat and tightened his grip on his wine glass
It was as if Levi was walking on Zeke’s territory, completely unwelcome. And Levi was starting to notice that. He shook his head and softened his voice, a subtle peace offering. “I had plans for the emotion alarm, I wanted to discuss them with Hange, get her opinion---”
“Erwin hasn’t told you yet?” Zeke put down his wine glass. “We’re terminating the contract.
It was like a ton of bricks fell on him. His stomach followed suit. Levi went for his wine glass and took a long sip which quickly turned into a gulp then he let out a cough. Water would have done a much better job to clear the tickle in the throat, the pang in his chest and the hollowness in his chest that followed. But he wasn’t going to ask for water in Zeke’s territory yet.
A ninety five percent chance of termination. Erwin had said back in their meeting.
“So it’s final?” Levi asked. The crushing disappointment had been enough proof that Levi had been vouching on that five percent.
Zeke nodded once. “Hange won’t be bothering you anymore. We’ll find another developer for her to work with.”
“I was working on some plans. They’re suggestions I was hoping she’d consider. If I---”
“Levi, can you send it over through email? Do you have to talk to her?”
Levi felt the blood rush to his face. He bent his head down almost immediately, focused on his shaking hands that were only gripping his knees tighter. He dug his nails into his knees, as if that would be enough to stop the shaking. “No, I don’t need to.” It could have come out as an exhale or an actual response.
“Well, that makes things easier. You know, she doesn't want to see you.” Zeke’s voice was painfully casual.
Levi looked up again, regretting it almost immediately. Zeke had a look of triumph on his face. It had only served to piss Levi all the more that Zeke had tried to hide it behind a nonchalant face. Seeing the small smile that decorated his lips, Levi dug his nails deeper into his knees. “Then why?”
“Why what?” Zeke pressed. “Why doesn't she want to see you?” His voice was getting colder and colder with each word. They twisted into an almost malevolent sneer.
“Why invite me here?” Levi asked, his voice clipped. Grappling with both Zeke’s attitude and the revelation on Hange’s feeling, Levi was finding it harder to speak.
“So you came because you were invited then?” Zeke took another sip. “And how were you invited?”
Does he expose Hange? And maybe Levi had taken too long vacillating.
Zeke had ended up answering the question himself. “An email? A support ticket with a flyer? Spam mail?” He took another sip. “You and your company have your very techy love alarm. And I have my own version too, my very old fashioned love alarm.” He gestured in front of him, right at Levi. “And it’s ringing in front of me right now.”
It took a few more seconds for Levi to understand it.
Zeke was either impatient. Or probably he thought Levi was a total idiot. He bent forward, leaned his elbows on his knees and dropped his wine glass on the wooden table with a loud clack.“Tell me, why would you go all the way here, over a fake email?” he asked. “Her name really was enough for you to book a plane ticket and fly across the ocean?”
Levi didn’t respond.
And it looked like Zeke didn’t need an answer anyway. He waved one hand in front of him and rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ve been in the corporate world long enough to know, there are meetings that could have been emails yet you still chose to take a plane and come here.”
“Do you want me to write an email?” Levi asked.
Zeke shrugged. We don’t need your input. This project...it’s mine and Hange’s.”
Yours and Hange’s? He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, as if that slow and subtle movement had been enough to quell the fire in his chest. “What makes you say that?”
“It’s our project. It’s my gift to Hange.”
What does that make me? Levi didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t even want that instinctive jaw drop, the twitch in his mouth that followed to expose what the hell he was thinking.
“You’re merely someone paid to do the work.” Zeke continued, as if he had heard Levi's silent question.
Levi didn’t even feel it. He wasn’t even completely aware it happened until Zeke’s eyes widened for a split second in surprise, then narrowed again, shifting instead to one could have been pure fury.
But Levi didn’t care. Even when looking down had revealed, he spilled wine all over the lush carpet. The wine glass had hit the table, scattering pieces of broken glass on the table and over the floor.
It would be a bitch to clean up. Levi didn’t care about that either, it wasn’t his mess. It wasn’t his fucking presidential suite.
Zeke just had more practice in the diplomacy department. “Why do you feel it necessary to stand up and cause such a ruckus?”
The calmness had Levi’s blood boiling more violently inside him. He could only be grateful that the breaking the wine glass had released some of that pent up energy.
Zeke was only making it harder and harder to stay still. “I’m only stating facts. The money I put into it makes it mine. The fact that you’re being paid to do it. The fact that you even signed an employment contract relinquishes all ownership you have of all the projects you do in the company. You of all people should know that. I can’t even believe I need to school someone like you on this. You can’t even keep yourself together.”
Levi looked away, back at the view of the balcony, the glowing city. How much of it was owned by people who knew nothing about construction, architecture or just the hard work that went into even making such a view possible? A tiny injustice that surfaced in Levi’s mind as he let Zeke’s words sink in. “With all due respect... ” His last few words came out softer than expected. But Levi had seemed almost confident with them. “...You know jackshit about coding or psychology.”
Soon, Levi gripped enough of that new found confidence to take control of the conversation. “You know nothing about how any of that shit works. You didn’t stay up all night working on that damn application. I’ll fucking bet my whole life savings you don’t even know how this application works.”
“Ackerman, watch your mouth!” It was Yelena who spoke, looking as if she had just recovered from shock, eyes wide, her own wine glass on the table.
Levi cleared his throat. “Once again, with all due respect.” He was mildly aware then, that he may have raised his voice. Zeke was surprisingly—almost admirably calm. He put one hand as if to stop Yelena and spoke up. “And does ‘knowing jackshit’ make me less of an owner?”
That was a question that Levi couldn’t answer. He regretted losing control. In shock, or in some punishment which only the inner workings of his mind understood, Levi could only stand still, unable to even sit back down.
Zeke stared at him accusingly. “Mr. Ackerman…” he started. “You don’t believe there’s any dignity in the labor of moving money around? Investing and reinvesting?”
Levi felt shame wash over him.
It was a strange state to be in. There was more than enough dignity in being a billionaire, in being one of the top one percent who just bought and sold whatever they got their hands on. It was an inarguable fact that society thought highly of the top one percent regardless of where they got their money. Yet Zeke had a way of speaking that made Levi reflect the validity of his own words, any disrespect or any backhanded insult he could have been sending to anyone else.
Levi knew he was being manipulated but he couldn’t seem to point out how.
Maybe it had been the way Zeke had opened his eyes, his face a mix of confusion, hurt, with a hint of derision. Or maybe everything had been Levi’s imagination and once again he was faced with the prospect that maybe he didn’t mean it.
“That…” That wasn’t what I meant.
At that point, Zeke had stood up and at that difference of height and difference of social status, Levi had to bite his tongue, not to lose his composure.
Zeke though seemed to know he had taken control of the conversation. “You’re trying to cover your ass?”
“Cover… my ass?” Levi said that last word with a little more venom in his mouth. Somehow, the eloquent Zeke suddenly putting so much force into one single curse only added to the tension of that moment.
“Trying to justify your own mistakes by emphasizing your own superiority. It’s a very common tactic. You’re not the first to employ it.”
“I never---”
“You should be thanking me. I’ve been treating you fairly, paying you for your hard work. And on top of that, I’ve tolerated the transgressions, even putting more money unnecessarily into covering this up.” Zeke said. He walked towards the kitchen island, pulling an envelope from next to the telephone and slamming it on the counter. He wasn’t motioning though for Levi to come.
Levi preferred to stay frozen, just standing between the sofa and the coffee table. But when Zeke opened the envelope, pulling out pictures, and a few pages which he waved on the air and slammed on the table, Levi’s curiosity peaked.
Levi covered the distance in so short an amount of time, he never figured out if he seemed too desperate.
In hindsight, it wasn’t important. The contents of the papers, the pictures bundled together by paper clips had only been a more pressing matter.
Zeke’s words only confirmed it. “You went on a road trip up north on Hange’s birthday?”
“We did,” Levi said. There wasn’t much else he could have said to deny it. The evidence was too overwhelming— blurred pictures, screenshots of comments online in threads, subthreads, all speculating Hange’s side relationship.
“No use denying it. Yelena made a call to our employees in our estate up north. They mentioned Hange’s companion when she visited.”
“But we didn’t do anything…”
Zeke raised one eyebrow as if he had caught them in the act. “I’m not accusing you of it. But what would you say in your defense? When the Love Alarm rings, when you book a double room in a motel and when you’re together, almost inseparable in all of these pictures,” Zeke spread the photos on the table, shots of them in the motel, in the train station, in Zeke's house. “Hange isn’t a high profile person. It never made the news, Yelena and I made sure of that but people talk, anyone familiar with the tech world and particularly interested in it, would know how our family looks like."
It was funny, how anger could so easily sour to shame. At that moment, Levi considered disappearing an almost welcome development. Zeke pushed the pictures nearer to him, in one messy pile, the screenshots on comments, mentioning words like ‘misters,’ ‘paramours,’ ‘who’s the man???’ “We purged the internet of all photos, no names. Some people repost but I have people watching and reporting. This isn’t cheap.”
I’m sorry. Levi’s first instinct was to apologize, the adamance of a while ago almost completely forgotten. But sorry’s wouldn't work. “How much? I’ll pay what I can.”
Zeke scoffed. “Can you?”
Levi couldn’t think up much to say. He scanned his eyes over the comments at first to feign business, an excuse not to speak up. The more he looked, the more engrossed he got at lines of comments. Others towards him, then as he turned the pages, they were all towards Hange.
Slut. Whore. Low life. Cheater.
“I’ll pay what I can,” Levi said.
“How much are you willing to shell out? A hundred grand?”
That was a huge chunk of Levi’s annual earnings already. He wasn’t one to disclose salary though. He kept his mouth a thin flat line and nodded.
Zeke shook his head. “I’ll be generous, considering all the inconvenience you’ve caused both of us. While you're here, humor me,” he said. “I may not be a coder or a psychologist but I’m sure, there are things I can teach you. If you’re willing to shell out a hundred grand, let’s gamble with it. I haven’t had a good game in a while.”
“A good game?”
Zeke turned to Yelena. “Can you be a dealer again?”
“You plan on playing heads up?” Yelena asked,
“We have a table in one of the private rooms, why not?”
“Heads-up poker?” Levi clarified. There was only one game heads up that the two could have been referring to, mentioning terms like ‘deal.’
Zeke didn’t even bother to answer the question either for lack of consideration for Levi or just an expectation that Levi may have understood.
Levi didn’t live under a rock and he was very much familiar with the game. He had played a few games on online poker sites back in college.
Still, he moved a little sluggishly behind his two companions. Levi could have just been a little too wary or Zeke could have been out for blood.
The stakes then and there were completely different. For one, he had never bet almost a year’s worth of his own salary on a single game. He had never played with anyone whose net worth was a thousand, or maybe even a million times his own.
At that moment, Levi felt like a total beginner and it was as if hesitation clipped every single moment he managed to pull out of himself. There wasn’t too much he was expected to do but watch as Yelena prepared a few playing cards then chips.
Zeke made himself comfortable right in front of Levi. “Willing to bet a hundred grand?” he said those last words with an ominous smile on his face.
Levi sensed danger, but he couldn’t sense any proper way out either. He owed Zeke, he knew that much, whether it be for the money or the utter disrespect he had been treating him with since a while ago. Maybe he owed Zeke for more than that, for any inconvenience Zeke may have experienced at Levi having gotten a little too close to Hange.
Levi admitted, even just to himself, he had been a little too close to Hange for either of them to have been comfortable. Guilt, a sense of duty or just hyper awareness of everything all at once had Levi conceding, “Do I pay now?”
“We play with chips first,” Zeke responded.
Yelena dropped colored stacks of chips in front of them. Levi counted reds, blues, yellows, browns.
“You should have a hundred thousand worth,” Yelena said. “Do you know the colors?”
“Yes, just a bit.” Dabbling into online poker for a few months at least, Levi had enough experience to tell the browns as five thousands, the light blues as two thousand and the rest had inferred for himself from the amount of chips in front of him. He looked up to see that Zeke had a noticeably larger stack. “That looks like a lot more than a hundred grand,” Levi noted.
Zeke didn’t answer immediately and the flicker of realization came quicker, quick enough to have Levi coughing in surprise. The odds were against him.
“It is,” Zeke said as he counted his own chips, as if it wasn’t plain and utter cheating or even deception that he had a glaringly higher amount of chips than Levi. He slipped the chips towards the side and looked questioningly at Levi.
What had Hange told him back then in the golf course?
Zeke likes winning...But the way he goes about winning is like...He’s always been smart about it, always playing safe.
And what a better way to play safe than to have a larger pile than your opponent.
Zeke spoke up. “Hange and I, we’d play games with business partners while talking contracts and logistics. And Hange always said this about games. They teach things and sometimes they expose parts of ourselves… And the more I played with Hange, whether it be mahjong, blackjack, golf, or chess, I started to notice something. Games are a mirror of life, almost a clear reflection of what you deal with in business and in relationships.”
Zeke paused for a second and closed his eyes as if deep in thought. The room filled with the sound of shuffling of cards, the sound of the clack of chips as Zeke ran his hand over the brown ones, tapping them over the wooden round table in stilted and deafening movements.
“Poker is one of my favorite games. Like business, you base your decision on three things… Tells, numbers and circumstances,” He paused for a few seconds longer and he could have been expecting Levi to speak.
Levi didn’t look up though, instead using the brief silence to make sense for himself the amount of chips on his side.
Zeke spoke again. “Yelena, shuffle up and deal. We’re playing heads up. Our small blind is five hundred dollars and our big blind is one thousand dollars,” he said coldly. “I hope that isn’t too much money.”
In truth, that was enough money to make Levi’s stomach turn. Zeke’s manner didn’t look like it welcomed any protest though, so Levi merely nodded as some weak reply.
A weak nod could have sufficed as a response. Zeke turned to Yelena. “Give our valued guest the dealer button.”
The dealer plays the small blind. Levi counted five hundred dollars worth of chips and pushed it in front of Zeke.
Two cards lay in front of him, care of Yelena. Levi had played before and he was familiar at least with what a good hand would have looked like. In one swift movement, he held the cards in front of him.
Ten of Clubs and Nine of Clubs. With just one look, he knew he could complete either a flush or a straight.
If the board plays to his advantage.
Zeke tutted. “It’s not considered good practice to lift the cards. Most poker players would just raise the corner just high enough to see their own cards.” He demonstrated that exact same movement, only raising high enough that he could get the contents cards with one glance. “You’ve never played on the board?”
“I’ve played for a few months online,” Levi muttered. He would look back at that experience with little animosity. After all, a few months dabbling with bets online and just applying what little he learned from his statistics class had seemed like an overall enriching experience at first. Then and there, on the board, with thousands of dollars at stake, Levi felt utterly vulnerable. Like a beginner. Maybe, in the grand scheme of things, someone with only months worth of casual experience was a beginner.
And Zeke held a glaring advantage, something Levi couldn’t so easily brush away. Levi’s own instinct, his own experience with odds had him considering raising. Just for a second. When Zeke was staring at him though, his own pile much bigger than Levi, Levi could only weigh between two decisions, fold and give up that hand or match Zeke’s bet.
It’s still a good hand anyway. “Call,” Levi said, matching Zeke’s bet.
By the way that Zeke was looking at him though, Levi knew he was probably not playing on the board properly. Zeke spoke up. “Tells. One important concept in both poker and business is tells,” he explained. “The way you carry yourself tells me you never played on the board. Am I correct?”
“Yes.” There was no use denying it but Levi didn't have to spare him a long answer.
Zeke dropped five purple chips on the table. “Raise to 2500.”
There was value in those chips, his lifestyle, his savings. And for a split second, he saw an abyss. He had spent too much on a flight ticket, a hotel room, just all the food he had been eating in that town. Then another year's worth of income on stake, reduced to chips.
By some strange instinct, by some adrenaline rush, Levi had managed to brush it away, reducing whatever stakes to the few chips on the board. And he was grateful for the power of delusion. By god, if he didn’t have at least a sliver of self-delusion, he could have folded right then.
“Call,” Levi said, once again matching Zeke’s bet. He needed to calm down. It wasn’t a loss yet, the game hadn’t even started.
There was hope in whatever cards Yelena was shuffling. She spread the first three on the table.
“We call that a flop,” Zeke said. “Just in case you didn’t know.” And of course Levi knew, he had played online long enough to pick up some terms. With the grin on Zeke’s face, a far cry from a face more appropriate for a game of poker, Levi was certain Zeke was provoking him. “I know what a flop is,” Levi said, running his eyes over the three cards.
Ace of clubs. Seven of Clubs. Eight of Hearts.
Levi started to calculate. He had 2500 dollars, a months worth of basic living expenses on the line. He wondered if it would have felt better just dropping the one hundred grand to Zeke from the start. There was something notably more painful and more terrifying about the possibility of watching his money whittle away slowly.
“During business meetings, I like to tell which topics, which specific products make my business partners uncomfortable, when dealing with stakeholders, with employees. I like to take a few quick guesses on the backgrounds of the people in front of me, to see whether they’re worth dealing with in the long term. ” Zeke explained. “How they handle pressure…”
Was that a threat? A challenge? Maybe it was. Levi was suddenly morbidly aware that he had licked his lips, that his hand shook as he took another peek at his cards.
He had a chance for a straight. But what would Zeke have? And Levi had made the mistake of looking at Zeke then.
“Another ‘tell’, your eyes widened just there. You have a pair? A potential straight? For someone who wears her heart on her sleeve, Hange does a much better time hiding than you do.” Zeke had deliberately put more emphasis on the word Hange.
If Levi hadn’t frozen solid, tensed up by the shoulders with Zeke’s almost accurate guess, the word Hange had done the trick to make Levi terribly, terribly self conscious. In an instinctive moment, Levi bent his head down, raised one hand in an attempt to cover his own eyes, only to realize a second later with his hand halfway to his eyes, that that had done worse to even show that he had something to hide.
“You don’t have to hide it. We all know already, you’re in love with Hange.”
Levi had accepted that part already. If he had been in complete denial at that moment, maybe he would have lost himself in Zeke’s accusing glare.
“Are you going to deny it?” Zeke dropped an alarming number of yellow and purple chips. “Raise to four thousand.”
Levi let out a sound, a combination between a no and a quiet huff and he matched Zeke’s bet.
“A month ago I heard from the staff in our summer house up north mentioning the man, who always followed closely behind Hange, the man who so willingly got a single bed hotel with her, the man in the train station who sat close to Hange Zoe,” Zeke said. “People talk, Levi. Did you consider that? And I thought to myself back then, maybe, it could have been a coincidence but Hange had her own tells as well. When Hange saved you from drowning, did you know she didn’t want to let go?”
Yelena put one more card down. Two of diamonds.
“This is a convenient turn card ,” Zeke commented. “If you have a nine, or a ten, you have a chance at a straight. Have you calculated?” He raised one eyebrow.
Levi didn’t answer. Hell, anything he did say could probably be taken against him.
“Hange would have. When we played, she would babble on about statistics. Everytime she held out a hand, completely beating me, she would babble all the calculations in her head. She has always been quick witted, intelligent, clever. That’s why I fell in love with her too.” He had said that part louder, more confidently and so matter-of-factly, and Levi was reminded he would never have that same confidence to say those words about Hange, even if he would have meant it.
There was a clack of poker chips. Four thousand dollars? Levi counted. He looked towards the pile next to Yelena. He had four thousand dollars there already. A total of eight thousand dollars on the table, months worth of rent for most.
From the expectant look on Zeke’s face, Levi was expecting he’d only go higher. Do I fold? But maybe with the excruciating mentions of Hange, that was something Zeke had wanted him to do. In a sliver of weak protest, Levi matched the bet, his own bet up to eight thousand dollars.
He needed a jack or a six for a straight. But why was Zeke easily dropping bets? Did he have something better?
“Let’s consider numbers in real life. Even with how you and Hange were acting, I thought I could give you the benefit of the doubt. When the alarm rang, when you and Hange accepted it as truth, I realized my suspicions might be right. Hange might actually be attracted to you, she might actually love you. So what does that mean for me?” Zeke was once again playing with his chips.
Five thousand dollars worth? Levi thought loudly to himself as he counted the chips.
A bluff? Levi’s mind was racing. Zeke’s own words were deliberately or even just half heartedly disturbing. But there wasn’t much else he could do, four thousand dollars were on the line. Zeke proved to be confident at least with his own hand.
Bluffs happened, Levi played enough to be aware that people did put more than enough money than necessary just to scare people into folding. Another surge of protest later, Levi had matched the bet, putting his total bet at eleven grand.
The final card on the board was a jack and Levi didn’t have to look back at his own cards to confirm it. He had a straight. When Zeke had bet ten grand in chips, it had been much easier to call.
Soon the cards were revealed, an Ace and a King. Zeke had the strongest pair.
But Levi had a straight. He took the pot, more than a total of twenty thousand dollars, more than enough to offset his whole trip. When Levi looked up at Zeke, he regretted it almost instantly.
The latter didn’t seem at all affected by losing over twenty thousand dollars. “Circumstances, the most powerful tool but the easiest to control with the right resources. ” Zeke said, as if that had been the explanation for his own strange behavior. “It’s only natural when the person I’m married to starts running off with another man, I’d feel threatened. When she started working on the love alarm and I noticed she was happier, happier than I’ve ever seen her before. Then she was crankier than I’ve ever seen her before, then sadder. I wondered, what was our head developer doing to make Hange like that.”
Nothing. Fall in love with her? There weren’t too many things which could have fit what was starting to seem like a redundant question, so once again, silence was the best response.
Yelena spread the deck of cards over the table and Levi instead focused on dropping the new blind and appreciating the deft manner at which Yelena ran her hands over the cards.
He wasn’t in any state to be mesmerized by cards though.
Zeke’s voice echoed in the room. “Levi, I asked you a question.”
“What did I do, you mean?” Levi asked. That was the last thing he remembered and it had seemed almost redundant, not worth an explanation. Zeke shook his head. “Do you think she’s in love with you?” A strange question to ask someone, too personal. Zeke had a way of speaking that demanded answers.
Levi’s mind was working faster, vacillating between answering or not. He thought back to the ringing of the love alarm, Hange’s words up in the tower. Hange seemed happier, then crankier, then sadder, than I’ve ever seen before. “That’s for Hange to decide, right?” Levi said.
Zeke’s voice was suddenly softer as if they had released a sigh with his words. “Considering circumstances though, I was assured Hange can’t just leave.”
That last word had peaked Levi’s interest. “Leave?” He repeated.
“Even if your love alarm is correct, even if by some chance she loved you, and she didn’t love me, Hange can’t leave. I made sure of that. I’ve covered my bases.”
Covered your bases? Levi bent his head down, hiding that incredulous look that forced itself out of him.
“I paid for her research. I paid for the emotion alarm. I paid for the media embargo so your photos wouldn’t get printed.  I paid for everything, our home, our trips. Hange can’t just leave, after I put so much into this relationship right?”
Yelena dealt a new set of his cards and Levi pulled his new cards towards him and took a peak.
Eight of hearts. Three of hearts. Shitty hand with a potential for a flush.
Zeke slipped the new cards towards him. “She’s not going to leave. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized, why are you still hurting yourself over this. Why don’t you give up?”
“There’s nothing to give up. I wasn’t holding on to anything.” Those words had been surprisingly easy to say. “Hange married you. I went here to talk to her, nothing more than that.”
“You could have sent an email. You could have sent it through Erwin. Why come here yourself?” Zeke’s words were suddenly ringing through his ear.
“Why are you so bothered by me showing up? You didn’t have to invite me here,” Levi said, and somehow, a cathartic release that came with those words.
The shocked almost speechless expression on Zeke’s face, a far cry from the calm, poker face of a second ago, sent a rush of confidence over Levi
Maybe there were things he knew about Hange that Zeke didn’t. Levi continued “I don’t understand why you had to go through all this trouble, covering the embargo, sending Hange away, buying the emotion alarm. Even if you didn’t cover your bases, even if you give Hange all of that, she wouldn’t have left you. She really believes she’s in love with you.” She’s a prideful prick that way. He added silently to himself.
“What do you know about Hange? You only met her months ago.”
Long enough to feel like I’ve known her my whole life. If his words could have at least been enough to ensure some happiness for Hange in the future, it was worth a shot. “You should have just trusted her. You take in the most free-loving person I have ever met as your partner and you trap her by hanging all that over her head? That’s not how to love someone like Hange.”
“Who are you to tell me how to love the person I’m married to?”
This time, it was Levi’s turn to ask a question. “Do you love Hange?”
“More than you’re capable of understanding,” Zeke answered venomously, as if it was an attack on Levi.
Somehow, of all the things, an attack on his own ignorance didn’t feel like anything at all. Levi was confident, he wasn’t ignorant. “Hange really believes love is a choice, love is freedom. And you think the best way to love her is to tie her down with money and gifts? With circumstance?”
“You can’t assume that.”
“Then why do you have to make her feel guilty? Why do you give her everything just so she won’t leave? Why are you assuming she’ll leave the moment she gets the chance?”
One hand on the table, and the table rocked, the pile of chips Levi had meticulously organized fell in one crash, the few others as they slid amongst each other, colors mixing amongst one another.
Yelena was the first to speak. “Focus on the game, Ackerman.”
“Check.” He didn't have the best hand. As the river opened up to reveal a potential for a flush, he still thought it worth a shot.
Zeke pushed a huge pile of chips to the front. “Raise to a hundred thousand dollars.” Almost all of Levi’s available funds.”
“Fold,” Levi said.
The button switched. Levi and Zeke dealt their blinds again. Yelena dealt another two cards. And the game continued.
Carefully raising the corners of his pair, Levi noted a three of spades and a queen of hearts. Even before Yelena had dealt the river on the table, Zeke had already pushed his pile to the middle. “Raise to a hundred thousand dollars.”
Levi couldn’t win, and just like the hand before, he folded.
It continued with that same pattern for the next ten hands. Zeke started to bait him, going all in towards the fourth hand, enough for Levi to lose all his savings, and Levi would fold. Hands later, Levi had lost the winnings of the first hand, he had absorbed a net loss. Zeke’s large pile was starting to seem more ominous.
Circumstances. The word started to hold more gravity as Levi reflected the unfairness of it all. Zeke wouldn't have minded putting one year’s worth of Levi’s salary in a single round, he had more than enough to spare.
You can’t win against money. What the hell was he thinking, giving up his blinds every single time. Zeke obviously bluffed a few times. No one would be lucky enough to have a streak of good hands.
But which hand? Levi thought loudly to himself, as if by some miracle, a god-sent answer could echo in his head.
“We can do this all night,” Zeke said, his composure once again collected, the exchange of a while ago forgotten.
Levi lost track of the number of hands. A quick look at his chips only made him realize he had forty thousand dollars left. Did he lose that much by just folding?
He would lose a hundred dollars that night if he continued playing but when he willed it, he realized was ready to lose that money. But the more Zeke played, the more he spammed all ins, the more urgent the loss started to seem.
It took a few more handsfor Levi to gather the courage to play, even with the stakes completely against him. Levi spared some thought to calculation, taking from Zeke’s rulebook.
Tells.
Zeke wore a poker face...Nothing there.
Circumstances
He had to do something fast, or risk losing all his money.
Numbers
Most importantly, statistics were on his side. He had opened his new hand to find a pair of aces.
Ace of Clubs. Ace of Spades. Statistically, the best poker hand. He could easily win everything back.
Then came the first three cards.
Ace of Diamonds. Queen of Diamond. Nine of Clubs.
“Raise to ten thousand dollars,” Zeke said.
Three of a kind, with the strongest cards. “Call,” Levi responded.
The next card was dealt. Ten of diamonds.
“Bet twenty thousand dollars,” Zeke said.
“Call,” Levi said again, pushing his pile of chips to the middle of the world. He couldn’t be too sure how he looked then. Were his hands shaking? It wasn’t a graceful movement for sure. He had to push his pile to the middle with three clumsy movements while Zeke did it in one elegant push.
But Levi noted the subtle way at which Zeke raised his eyebrows before they met eyes. And for one second, Levi allowed himself a long stare, a slight movement of his lips, nothing close to a smile. If that one expression would be enough for Zeke to fold and give up everything, it was worth a try.
It wasn’t.
Yelena dropped the last card on the board. An Ace of hearts.
“Raise to one hundred thousand dollars,” Zeke said, notably louder than every other time before.
Enough to make Levi jump, enough for him to doubt. He snuck another look at his cards. Four of a kind. You’re fine. Why was his heart still beating wildly? Why was meeting Zeke’s eyes for a while longer such a harrowing experience?
It’s a poker face. People do this when they play poker. Levi told himself and the longer he was able to convince himself that Zeke knew what he was doing. And maybe it had always been good practice to stay calm, even when everything was stacked against you.
“Showdown,” Yelena said.
Or maybe Zeke just wasn't that connected, especially since nothing much was at stake for him.
It could have been all those guesses, or it could have been the ugly one that opened up in front of them right then and there.
And it looked like Zeke had figured it out first. “Have you heard of the term bad beat?”
Levi was taking longer than usual to make sense of the cards, much slower than usual and maybe it had been the exhaustion of calculating the past almost countless hands.
“There is roughly a four thousand to one chance of getting a four of a kind. But sometimes, people have something better than that… Not often but… It’s still worth considering.”
Something better. And when Levi was considering every hand better than a four of a kind, it became much easier to scan the river then Zeke’s hand for the answer.
Zeke had two cards: King of Diamonds and Jack of Diamonds. A Royal Flush.
“There’s a six hundred thousand to one chance of actually getting a royal flush. First one in my life.” Zeke could have been genuinely amazed, but that big ham reaction had been more than enough to piss Levi off.
It made it difficult to sit still.
“When you consider circumstances, you introspect, you strategize and you pray for a little luck,” Zeke said. “Believe me, you had every other chance to win before. I went all in with the worst cards and you folded every single time. Are you that terrified of losing a few thousand dollars?”
Hundreds of thousands of dollars. Levi corrected in his head. An annual salary’s worth. And maybe that was the point Zeke had wanted to make. By circumstances alone, Zeke had manipulated Levi's choice.
Zeke smirked. “Circumstances rely on luck too and luck is a funny thing. Even if you play everything correctly, you can still lose. Life’s unfair isn’t it.”
“You had less to lose than I did,” Levi said, his lip trembling. “That’s all there is to it. If you lost all the money, you would have put more in.”
“I would have,” Zeke admitted.
“I was playing a losing game.”
“At least you got the lesson. These are your circumstances. Every life lesson everyone should have learned from birth, life isn’t fair. I’m surprised you’re expecting that from a casual game.”
“I never said that. I knew I was playing a losing game and I expected that.” It had taken all his effort to keep his reaction unreadable, and god he wished he had managed it every other time before. “Thank you for the food. Thank you for the game. Thank you for covering for me and Hange.”
With the game over, it didn't look like he felt compelled to wipe that smug grin off his face. And there were things Levi wished he could tell Zeke, and maybe it was worth the risk. “One last thing, I don’t agree with you about relationships, businesses being like games. Loving isn’t a game. When you give all this money to Hange do you expect her to give back? You expect to be able to manipulate relationships through circumstance alone?"
“I told you Ackerman, don’t tell me how to love my partner.”
"I don't have enough fucks to give for every single person in this world. I’m not telling you how to love the person you married because I actually give a fuck about your love life. I’m only telling you how to love your partner because your partner just so happens to be Hange and Hange’s a free bird. She doesn't deserve at all to be loved like that. Don't cage her in with circumstances. Don’t tie her down with money, with a debt of gratitude.” He pushed his seat back and walked away.
“Where are you going?”
“I need some fresh air.”
The sliding door wasn’t locked. He forced it open gently then too hard, enough to make it rattle, He gave one was long look at the infinity pool then leaned his arms on the balcony railings. He took a deep breath.
And that reprieve was just a little too short. It turned out Yelena followed behind him, a piece of paper in hand. “Zeke’s bank details,” she said.
That had seemed too abrupt. But really, what was he supposed to expect, a consolation prize? Hange’s location?
“It would be much easier if you paid immediately,” Yelena said. “Do you have the money on hand?”
He didn’t have the credit rating to pay that in one go. He opened his own banking application and attempted to transfer that much in one go.
Bank error.
“We accept checks,” Yelena said.
Levi had never dealt with checks. His credit card limit was far less than how much he needed to pay. And a few exchanges later, a quick google search later, Levi had figured it out. He could pay by wire transfer but by god, and just the wire transfer would cost him more money than necessary.
Levi was a man of principle though. Slip of paper on hand, Yelena’s contact details on his phone he made his way out of Zeke’s presidential, without even bothering so much as a goodbye. It looked like Zeke had retired to his own private room or study anyway. Did he need that pleasantry from Levi of all people?
On the way back to his own hotel, he took a long cut, through the hotels that connected to one another through glass pathways, a few floors above ground. He made sure to take a longer time than usual, enough time to reflect on his own shitty luck.
A fruitless reflection with a very very repetitive and depressing conclusion. That’s just how life is?
If it hadn't been for those two who had talked a little too loudly by the side, maybe Levi would have deemed it fruitless.
If didn’t look to his right to see the entrance to the casino, if he didn’t walk quickly past the slot machines, taking in the red plush carpet, he would have said it was a total waste of time. The dim room only further accentuated the lights that never seemed to come from an exact same place. The casino had a way of just letting some strange feverish state, some illusion blanket his surroundings.
Hange Zoe. The man at the front had said her name, too proudly, as if in total amazement. For a while, the dazzling casino lights had him doubting that name clipped into one brief exchange. Others seemed to be talking about her too. Then he was following the crowd.
Murmurs of Hange Zoe, none of them demeaning or admonishing. Others seemed breathless, and Levi thought it worth his time, to tiptoe just to see a good look of what they were staring at.
Fruitless.
Levi dove into the crowd, slipping his way through, bending over, moving his hand through when necessary. He never made it to the front, but he did note the messy mop of brown hair, tied into a high ponytail, bent over the table. The autumn jacket, the side profile and the glimmer of some tight lips.
Hange was deep in thought in the middle of what looked to be some poker game. Her own pile of poker chips right next to her, much larger than everyone elses. He knew her enough to make that type of guess.
Circumstances.
Levi decided it would be a waste of time. Circumstances were never his to control anyway. They were Zeke’s, they were hers.
Hange Zoe’s win again.
How many hands had she played before that?
She’s cheating.
No, she’s just lucky.
I heard she calculates every single hand.
Levi felt some sense of superiority, knowing something the murmuring crowds didn’t.
All summarized into three things. Firstly, lady luck was probably on her side, it had always been as if making up a string of misfortunes in a previous life. Secondly, she probably calculated every single hand. Third, Hange would never ever cheat.
And those would be last few thing he would allow himself be proud of. That would be the last time he would think of Hange as someone remotely his.
As Levi turned the heel and walked back to his hotel, he decided, although it wasn’t too fruitless a detour, he still regretted making that quick trip into the casino.
***
If Levi knew he would have felt like shit as soon as he came back from vacation, maybe he never would have gone on that stupid vacation in the first place.
Monday. Monday morning. Those words managed to taste bitter, even when Levi was barely forcing it out of his mouth. It could have been the fact that he barely had time to get over the jet lag or it was just way too early in the morning. Scratch that, it wasn't any of that at all.
Zeke was sitting on the couch, seeming very much unaffected by what should have been transoceanic jet lag and very much unaffected by the words that came out of Erwins house just a second ago.
At first, Levi even doubted what I heard, attributing it to exhaustion. He turned back to Zeke, no sadistic grin, no furrowed brows. He was calm, unimpressed and all business.
"Sorry… it's too early in the morning… I don't think I heard you correctly,” Levi said, an attempt at professionalism even with the trappings of shock, disbelief and very inconvenient drowsiness.
“We don’t usually invite lower management to these types of meetings… But Mr. Jaeger requested you be here, to answer any questions that might pop up...” Erwin said apologetically.
“No. Not that… You mentioned it a while ago...Why is Mr. Jaeger here?”
"We’re making amendments to the contract," Erwin answered.
“And why do you need me here?”
“He’s here to buy the love alarm,” Erwin said so casually that Levi had to clear his throat, get rid of whatever popping sensation had been going on in his ears.
My love alarm. The love alarm he worked more than half a decade on. The love alarm which he knew like the back of his hand, from the backbone of the codes to the front end bugs.
"It's for sale?" Levi spat out. There were only so many ways he could speak and so many ways he could even articulate the emotions running through his head.
Erwin cleared his throat, seeming uncomfortable at such a simple question. "Initially no… we never considered selling it but when Zeke called about it last week, we thought it worth a conversation.” He turned to Zeke then back to Levi. “We were able to run through Zeke’s proposal with the higher ups last Friday, and given the generous proposal, we are more than willing to sell him the rights to the Love Alarm and the Emotions Alarm project.”
How much did he offer? Levi instinctively looked towards Zeke but he soon figured out that no matter what he said, Zeke probably would never disclose the final price. In some vague response, Zeke pulled the brown envelope on the table closer to himself. "Everything has a price,” he said matter-of-factly.
Erwin spoke up. "I did the calculations as soon as I received your call last Thursday and it looks like it would be more than enough to cover what potential earnings we expected within the next two years and more than enough for the development of another project.
Last Thursday night. The night they had met in Zeke’s penthouse suite. Was buying the love alarm an impulse decision on Zeke’s part? The timing just seemed too right.
And they only continued to talk about it, as if Levi wasn’t there. What did an engineer know about business though or about purchases as high volume as the rights to the love alarm?
For something that had taken countless all nighters over time and years of development, the process of selling it just seemed too easy. “Mr. Jaeger, if I may ask, what made you consider buying the love alarm?” Levi asked.
“Hange’s research,” Zeke said, as if it was the most obvious and the most noble reason in the world.
“And when you buy it, what then?” Levi challenged.
“I’ll work with Hange. We’ll hire new developers to fix the bugs you never fixed. We’ll further improve the product and the code and we’ll break the product down, see what else we can use to improve the emotions alarm project.” The answer was disappointing, a far cry from what Levi wanted to hear.
Your other plans with Hange. He had opened his mouth, ready to expound on the question.
Erwin though may have sensed the thick tension between them. "You have the contract?"
Zeke nodded. "I had our lawyer work on it over the weekend, a rush job. You can run through it with the higher ups and I'll have someone pick up a signed copy by this week"
"Believe me, we’re decided, you can even pick it up tomorrow," Erwin said as he opened the envelope, pulled out papers and flipped through the pages. For a second, he dropped the paperwork on the table then onto the page where the executives were expected to sign.
All familiar names from the big wigs all the way, down to Erwin. Levi's name wasn't there at all. Figures, Levi after all, was merely an engineer. He couldn't help but sense irony though in the fact that the one who knew the most about the product had no say in its actual fate.
Erwin's words only made the irony seem more glaring. “We'll use the next two weeks to do some clean up on our end, pack up the resources and work on data migration.”
By ‘we’, Levi knew Erwin would be ordering him to do that.. He couldn’t help but feel slightly cheated though. He would be basically ordered to take apart something he built from scratch, send it off and never see it again. And the longer he stared at the contract that would be ordering all that, the more desolate the air around him seemed to feel.
The product he had worked on for years, taking apart every now and then, breaking and putting back together to find even the smallest bugs, going on countless hours of overtime over, was like a child to him, a child he was unwillingly sending it away to some known.
Some masochistic part of him had him still staring at the contract, long enough still to remember his first contract when he first signed into the company, something that stayed snug into the back of his mind, unexpectedly kicking his arse then.
Ownership of Intellectual Property. Employee agrees that the Company shall own, and Employee shall (and hereby does) assign, all right, title and interest...
Everyone in the room seemed to have too much regard anyway for pleasantries anyway and never felt the need to clarify it. Levi had to rely on his own memory of Zeke saying it just a few days ago in his hotel room.
The company pays you. Any effort, ideas, projects you put into our product is company property.
And Zeke will be buying it so it will be his property.
Whether Zeke even knew how the alarm worked didn’t seem to matter to him though.“So, I guess in a matter two weeks, all server data and resources should be with Jaeger corporation.”
Erwin nodded. “We’d be happy to expedite the process. If all goes well, yes.”
When a huge sum of money was on the line, suddenly red tape was so easy to squeeze one’s way through. It took an enormous amount of effort to stay calm as they signed away the culmination of his own hard work, his countless hours of overtime, the blood, sweat and personal investment he put into that one application, all signed away in a brief second, all the red tape of a few weeks ago, non-existent.
Erwin turned to him, “If you can stay behind after the meeting, so we can discuss the logistics…”
Most days, Levi appreciated the manner at which Erwin spoke, the way he took some regard of Levi’s own time when giving orders. That day, there were too many things happening to even appreciate.
What else do you expect me to do? Say no? Hell, he had wanted to say no, but by the glaring lack of his own name on the contract, the glaring lack of regard for his own opinion on the matter, Levi could only seethe silently.
“Oh yeah,” Zeke snapped his fingers, loud enough to call Levi’s attention. “Hange sends her regards. She enjoyed working with your company a lot.” He turned to Levi and gave him a nod. “And to you too Ackerman, I just have to say we’re very grateful for your hard work and your generosity.”
What generosity? The implication that Levi had any say on commercial decisions seemed mocking.
“We’ll take good care of both applications,” Zeke continued. “And regards from Hange, she wishes you all the best with Petra.”
Petra. Levi let out a cough, letting out a subtle look at Erwin. If the latter did seem bothered, he didn’t show it.
With that, Zeke left the room, and Levi started to understand how someone could keep such a confident demeanor even with the slightest inconveniences. Somehow, having that many assets, wealth and power under one’s belt really had that paper.
The way he strode, embodied it, the way that in just a few phone calls, he had completely dismantled everything Levi had worked on, making it his own.
And when he closed the door gently behind him, leaving Levi and Erwin alone in the room, Levi was reminded once again, the love alarm, the emotion alarm, were never his, as much as he would have wanted to claim ownership.
They were never his, but suddenly they were Zeke’s. Levi turned to Erwin, narrowing his eyes, as he watched the blonde make his way to the desk. Erwin seemed uncomfortable as if he sensed the strange betrayal that something so standard as corporate procedure could bring. Then he cleared his throat and spoke up.
Two weeks. Levi was given two weeks to clean everything, migrate all data and vacate the office.
It was the company's project but it was Levi's responsibility. There was a broken partnership which somehow ended with two products sold. Yet even with all the damage dealt by that deal, the management needed some scapegoat from within the company.
Erwin had explained everything with as professional of a face as possible. With the tight lipped attempt at a grin that followed, the way he had avoided Levi’s eyes one too many times, Levi suspected Erwin knew more than he was letting on.
The photos maybe? The bug with Hange? The broken partnership? Of course someone would end up having to take the blame for giving Zeke a ‘bugged’ application.
Too many reasons, many among those rooted in some attempt to save face, in filthy office politics. And by then, Levi hadn’t been expecting too much.
That probably had been the reason that when Erwin looked back at him with a much softer expression, Levi couldn’t help but let out a long sigh, something to abate whatever emotion was threatening to let loose.
I didn’t think it was right for the mastermind behind the application to be terminated completely empty handed.
Erwin had arranged for some severance pay after the two weeks were over.
Enough to get out of the country, start somewhere else.
A job termination shouldn’t have been enough to be driven out of the country. Levi didn’t make too much sense of Erwin’s words until he had experienced it for himself a week later, through an empty email inbox after sending out the same resume to twenty companies for over thirty roles.
Have you heard of a no poach agreement? Erwin had asked back in the office.
A no poach agreement?
It’s technically illegal so this usually comes as a verbal agreement among companies. They’d note their best employees and if they have to let one go, all companies agree, they cannot hire them for a certain period of time, five to seven years. It's a 'scratch my back, I'll scratch yours' type of deal.
To keep company secrets apparently or to keep Levi from making a similar application in any other company.
If you want to continue working in the development industry, your best chance would be abroad.
Around one week left before his termination would become effective and Levi gave up on finding a development job in his city, hell even his country. Around that time he had started to clean up his studio apartment, throwing out whatever was needed.
He started looking through immigration laws, consulting when necessary. He looked through apartments in other cities, then labor laws. The severance pay was more than enough at least to get him out, and Erwin had been a big help in straightening other legalities out.
He had an extra few weeks to clean out his room, pack up his things, straighten out immigration issues and buy a damn ticket out of there.
In between, his final week at work. He had never considered leaving his job of over a decade to have ended such a long bittersweet moment. In reality, he never really had the time to appreciate normalcy and he felt some regret at that.
Migrating server data, resources, making sure everyone under him had straightened out their leaves, making sure they were assigned to new projects took time. Allowing himself reprieves in-between to just sit down, and stare at half filled boxes also took longer and more effort than he had expected it too.
He stared at the ever increasing boxes that lined his office walls for a while longer. Surprisingly, for someone so fastidious, he had a lot he needed to clean out, both inside the computer and outside.
You will lose all accesses, to emails, to chat accounts and to company property by end of day Friday. He got that same message, in different forms from human resources, from Erwin and Levi was on a strict time limit to get everything out.
In some protest, some act of empowering rebellion, Levi was taking his sweet time. He continued to reserve conference rooms, staying out of his own room as much as possible, going through each line of code slowly as if he they were all individuals all deserving of their own greeting.
He started with the backend, then went to the frontend. He looked through the pull requests and the merge requests and the fixes that would never make the next release.
And Friday couldn’t have come any faster. By then, Levi had ninety percent of  his office space cleaned out. He entered the room to find his own team lugging out some of the boxes.
100 percent done then? Levi thought to himself.
Eld was the first one to speak up. “We thought you’d need some help. We heard you only had until five to vacate the room." Yet, he had the expression of a guilty child caught taking cookies from the cookie jar at midnight.
His whole team looked similar.
Levi shook his head. "No, this is much appreciated," he said. A stiff choice of words if he did say so himself but the last few hours of work weighed on him more heavily than the days leading up to it.
He only had two hours before he lost access to everything he had worked on for years.
He held his work laptop close to himself as he watched them lug box after box out of the room.
"Eld was suggesting we go get something to eat tonight," Gunther suggested.
"That depends…" Levi started. Definitely, whether he enjoyed it depended on how quickly he could brush off that weight then that tightening in his chest. "Have you talked to your new team leads? Your new managers?" he asked, an attempt at a light conversation. He wondered if his expression betrayed his words.
Maybe they did. "Or we could wait a few days," Eld said.
"We'll see. We have a few more hours before the end of day," Levi said. He slipped past them and walked back into his office.
Shelves empty, desk spotless and even the floor shone with some unsettling gleam. It had always been spotless, he made sure of it but there had always been something melancholic about rooms that had been full for years, suddenly empty.
And until a few weeks ago, the room had felt like Hange. He had deliberately left many of the crooked books on the shelf, the crooked documents, the titled reusable paper tray and the test devices messily lined up on the shelfs because Hange had left it that way.
And the whiteboard right next to his desk which Hange had failed to clean many weeks before was suddenly wiped clean. Levi didn't even noticed he let out a sound, a mix between a gasp and a whimper when he saw Hange's list of emails completely gone, erased over.
"You okay in there, boss?" Petra asked.
"Someone cleaned the whiteboard," Levi said.
"Oluo, I told you he'd point out your shitty job cleaning the board!" Petra said, from just outside.
Oluo responded. "Well, he's not going to be using it anymore so I though--- Ow!" Some silence followed, then approaching footsteps. "Sorry sir, I'll clean it again."
"No, it's fine," Levi said, he put his hand up, as if to stop Oluo from making that quick trek back to the white board. "I'll clean up the rest. Thanks for the help."
For once, he was grateful for someone's carelessness. The white board wasn't as clean as he thought it was a second ago and maybe because he would have rather it wasn't clean.
Hange wrote in crooked lines where ends hit one another, others fell and the fonts and sizes were never too similar from one line to the other. And the closer Levi came to the whiteboard, he noticed it, one email peeking out, spared by the shoddy erasing job.
Wingsoffreedom132
Hange had multiple emails she used for testing and when Levi opened his work laptop one last time, enjoying the last few hours of access as he cleaned up folders and code repositories, he found himself looking back at the email.
Does she still use it? He asked himself
Maybe. It was worth a try at least.
He looked once again around the room, the very empty room. Then he looked back at his screen, opened the repositories that were ready to be sent out to the point person from Jaeger corporation.
Then he opened his own personal folder, the unfinished codes from the love alarm then the mood alarm then the plans, the files and on the upper left of the file 'the Mood Alarm.'
To hell, with red tape, bureaucracy and all that shit. It was his project, right at his fingertips. It wasn’t Zeke’s nor was it management. The only reason they probably hadn’t sacked him on the spot was because he was the only one who could have so efficiently organized it before they sent it off to some poor sap who worked under Jaeger corporation.
He allowed himself one rebellion, or more specifically a string of rebellions.
If he were forced by some bureaucracy to send all the resources of the love alarm and the mood alarm to Hange, he would do it on his own terms.
He disconnected from the office wifi. He opened a hotspot then he opened his own personal email. Opening an incognito tab, he transferred all the codes and resources to his own personal repository, organizing it in a similar manner.
Then copied the link and started to compose an email.
All the codes for the love alarm
He pasted the link right below.
All codes for mood alarm.
And below it, he pasted another link.
He waited for a few more seconds as the email loaded the attachment, the file with all the plans he had for the mood alarm, allowing himself a small smile as he imagined Hange pondering the name 'mood alarm.'
He vacillated between writing a message under and keeping it brief. Then a second later, his fingers moved for him, he didn't even realize what he had been writing until it was on the page, ending on a period for finality.
“Dedicate your heart.” He read it out loud, then he felt a pang on his chest and a twist at his gut.
Dedicate your heart to what? He didn't want Hange dedicating her heart to anything. He wanted her free, flying high, doing whatever the hell she wanted to, bound by no role, no debt of gratitude, no excuse for love.
Reach for the sky? Hell, she could probably even make it to the stars.
So he went for something that left him cringing.
Reach for the stars (or anything higher than that).
Then he added something, collateral from that rush of indignance.
Don’t let anything stop you. Just remember, I would have given you all these damn codes for free.
After sending the email, he took a few precautions. He cleared his history, his cache, his browser and he deleted the rest of the files in his laptop. With one hour before the end of day, he turned off the laptop.
“Do you need any more help?” Petra had entered the room, hands behind her back in some very faux casual manner. And she seemed to be avoiding his gaze.
Levi used that moment to wipe that last line of Hange’s email, as if that could have been evidence to that bout of rebellion. “I’m done. Let’s leave the rest to whoever will be cleaning up the desk.”
Petra didn’t seem at all suspicious, or maybe she didn’t care. “That’s good. WIll you be joining us for dinner?”
Levi nodded. “Maybe my leaving is worth a dinner.”
“You’re really leaving?”
“Looks like it.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I bought a plane ticket, secured a visa. I'll go somewhere, far from here, then find a job or maybe work freelance.
“I want you to stay here.”
“I wanna stay here too,” Levi admitted. “But I couldn’t even find a job.”
“I’ll miss having you here… And working with that love alarm. I really believed in the product and it made me realize my own feelings too,” Petra leaned by the window, looking worse for wear.
When Levi gave a long look, he noted maybe she had been crying. He almost felt guilty for not even struggling to fight back tears then.
Maybe his body had already reached the point of pure catatonic, pure acceptance at the hopelessness of the situation. “I’m sorry.” What was he saying sorry for? “I mean— I’m sorry I can’t stay.”
Petra took a deep breath. “This is probably the only time I can say something so I’ll say it now and you know, if you believe in your love alarm, you probably figured it out already,” Petra started. “I like you, I really like you. Actually you know what, it might be love. I don’t know if that would change anything—”
“It won’t.” Levi kept his voice firm. “I bought the ticket. I organized my papers and I have a place to stay. I’m leaving.”
“For good?” Petra had on a wounded look, her mouth twisted into something similar to a pout, by her eyes were elsewhere as if she knew there was a little too much vulnerability in her voice. “So, whatever I feel, it won’t change anything?”
Levi shook his head. “I don’t think it would be fair to you if I accept your feelings. I’m in no hurry to date.” He let out a clipped sardonic laugh. “At this point, I’ll probably die alone.”
“You deserve—”
“And you deserve someone who wouldn’t decide to date you for convenience.” Maybe Levi had been a little too frank at that moment.
Petra didn’t respond, her mouth frozen in a tight lipped line.
“The love alarm will be back so maybe you can use that to find someone else whose alarm rings with yours,” Levi continued, his voice deliberately gentler. “Or what about growing something organically, without the help of that stupid app. I honestly think, sometimes the love alarm causes more chaos than actually fixes things.” He shrugged. “It depends on the circumstances really.”
Circumstances he probably would never understand. He turned back to the black screen and reflected for a long painful moment about it. He was a slave to circumstance.
They were silent for a while longer and Levi used that time to recover, willing himself not to meet Petra's eyes.
She broke the silence a few seconds later. “We’ll meet you by the gate for dinner?”
“I’ll see you then, just give me an hour or so,” Levi said, checking the clock on his phone. He had a little more than an hour left before EOD. “Or just text me when you find a restaurant.”
It took a little longer to convince Petra to leave and it had ended with them having to text Levi a familiar restaurant name.
Levi had taken his time doing nothing at all, just sitting on his office chair in his bare office room. He counted down the minutes on his phone until five. A few times he had even stared at the seconds counting down on the digital clock view on his phone.
Around a minute past five. He booted his laptop again, typed out his email and password.
Access Denied. Please contact your IT Administrator.
At exactly five in the afternoon, he lost access to the system. He took a deep breath and let reality weigh him slowly, then sink deep into him in one swift sensation.
The love alarm and the mood alarm were never his. Any delusion that they were his had dissipated with all the company accesses.
***
In an airport, the point past immigration is international space.
Maybe that explained that strange liberation that came with getting past immigration and walking through the gates, searching for his own. Or it could have been many things at once. He was out of his old job, out of his old environment and somehow, in its own way, it symbolized a new beginning.
Even as an international space though, some things weren’t completely unavoidable. Settling on the departure gate, Levi went through some final checklists on his phone.
He had a new bank account. He had a place to stay as soon as he landed.
And his inbox was a confluence of unread mail. Many of them were goodbyes, from colleagues, some from finance, from human resources, from his own team and he wondered how the hell people found out and what they were thinking about his leaving.
Erwin sent a few tips on taxes and getting housing loans. Petra had sent a ‘safe flight’ message with the same pleasantries of meeting up when she gets to visit.
There was one message was avoiding and he decided to open it last. He spent the first few minutes before that spamming the same thank you message to every single goodbye message.
That one other message after all, was easy to ignore, just a bank notification that money had been wire transferred.
One hundred thousand dollars, the exact money he had lost and sent over to Yelena, he realized as he opened the message and put a little more thought into it.
You have two weeks to claim it. Two weeks? The countdown started a week ago and he only had a week to claim it.
Actually, not even a week. Looking up at the boarding time, he realized he only had an hour. He could probably organize something to have it sent over to his new account. Considering timing and the logistics though was stressful enough already. And besides, his mind found it more enticing to just indulge the context behind such a large sum of money.
It could have been a scam. The amount of money though had seemed too much of a coincidence and admittedly, Levi was a still lovesick.
Don’t send me money. Just fucking talk to me. Levi whispered to himself. Just in case, just in case that was Hange.
In some indignant response, he decided to delete the message and instead, spend last few hours going through some obscure threads on the industry. Something he had been actively avoiding.
Business Jaeger Zeke Jaeger acquires the love alarm… The mogul had found a fatal bug on the love alarm…
In a noble effort to improve the efficacy and accuracy of the product, he took it upon himself to oversee development….
Head developer behind the love alarm has been terminated....
Unnamed developer. He had at least been given that much. Levi let out a sigh. For a high profile application, no one really figured out the name of the head developer. It was a thankless job but Levi never thought too much about the glory of it.
And at that moment, he could only be grateful for the anonymity, whether or not Zeke had done it deliberately.
Plane ready for boarding.
They would be starting with first class passengers first and Levi knew he had more than enough time to take a trip, to the farthest trash can, yet still something near enough to catch the flight.
He unzipped the front pocket of his backpack, pulling out a small sim card pin. He poked it, pulling out the tray, noting the bronze sheen of the sim card. It had taken him a few tries to hold the small card between his fingers and a few more tries to bend it between his fingers, bend it to the point of unusable.
He pocketed his phone and quickly made his way back to the boarding gate.
No bank account. No phone number. He wondered why he went through that much of an effort to destroy everything.
Maybe just for an attempt for a new beginning. Or maybe because he didn’t want her to find him.
The more he thought about it though, the sooner he realized he wanted her to find him. He just thought it better to assume that she wouldn’t even try.
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lovelyirony · 3 years
Text
the much anticipated second part for the amnesia-related fic. 
A wedding ring. 
This doesn’t mean that he and Tony are married except that he hasn’t seen Tony with a wedding ring and he hasn’t mentioned a wife and he doesn’t sound like he has a wife and if Rhodey-if Jim had a wife, then wouldn’t he know about her? Wouldn’t they have met by now? He may not know Tony yet, but he doesn’t think that he would be that cruel. 
“Colonel Rhodes-” 
“Friday, don’t,” Jim says, swatting at the air. “What-why did you hide that from me?” 
“Sir believed it would be best,” Friday answers, tone almost quieter. “He...wasn’t sure that you would understand.” 
“I don’t understand,” he says. “Why would I marry him of all people? He’s not exactly my type.” 
“Since I am a learning program, I cannot say for sure. Humans do a lot of illogical things.” 
He’s trying to wrap his head around it and avoid Tony at the same time. 
Friday won’t let him see any wedding pictures, not until he remembers more. 
Even though he’s been (mostly) successful at avoiding Tony for about a week and a half, the man is still so nice. 
He’s still operating under the assumption that Jim has no idea that they’re married, and he does stuff like leave out a cup of coffee and offer breakfast up or ask if he wants pizza for dinner.
Jim reads too much into it. 
And he doesn’t know why, because it’s not like anything has really changed, except for the fact that Tony won’t call him Rhodey. 
Jim gave him permission to, saw how much it killed him with every correction and every reminder. Told him “you can call me Rhodey, if you want.” 
And he doesn’t. 
Tony never does. 
He still almost says it, but Jim is quicker on the tongue, and he doesn’t make a move to try to push any memories at all. 
(Even though he remembers how happy Tony was to hear that memory about grocery shopping and Dum-E’s code source.) 
He does want to remember. He wants to remember why he apparently married Tony and was genuine about it, why Pepper and him are best friends and never were anything more, why he’s...why he’s so different from what he wanted. 
-
Tony knows that Jim’s acting differently. He’s not sure why. He’s not sure he wants to know why, because that might complicate everything. 
And he doesn’t want another thing to be wrong. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him except for the one damn person that probably should be, but Rhodey’s never been good at following rules. (But he’s good at fooling people.) 
Pepper talks to Tony a lot. Asks him how he’s doing, if there’s anything she can do. 
Repair someone’s memory is a little bit outside of her area of expertise. 
“It’ll be okay,” she says, putting her tiny hand over his. “Things will work out.” 
They both know that in Tony’s life, luck has never been quite what it seems. Or existent at all, at times. 
-
Ironically, it’s their anniversary of the wedding when Jim remembers something else. It actually comes in the form of looking in the fridge and not finding his apples. 
“Quit leaving honey-crisp off of the list just because you don’t like them you asshole,” he calls to Tony. 
Tony almost yelps. 
“Out of everything in your life and that’s what you remember? Your stupidly sweet apples?” 
“Are you gonna get them?” 
“Why don’t you come with me?” Tony asks, “just so that you can get your apples and maybe get out of the house for once.” 
“Hmph. Fine,” Jim answers. “Where’s my coat?” 
“Uh...” Tony trails off, trying to find the words. “Third peg on the...right, I think?” 
“You’ve known me for years, and you don’t know where my coat is?” 
Rhodey is always the one to hang up his coat, and then put his arms out for Tony’s. 
“To be fair, I am important and fancy and a big deal,” Tony scoffs. “Come on, go get your coat and then I’m going to show you what horrible things you buy from the store.” 
“It’s not that bad. And what, you don’t like good apples?” 
“As sour as can be, sourpatch. As sour as can be.” 
-
Grocery shopping with Tony is...interesting. He didn’t think it would take so long. 
“This is why you don’t usually come,” Tony teases him. “I take so long and you end up sitting in the car and cursing at Pepper or Happy about how much time I spend dedicated to snack-judging.” 
“And I put up with that?” 
“You do,” Tony says, grabbing the cart. “Because you love me and you deal with a lot worse from me.” 
“Like what?” 
“Best not to talk about it,” Tony says. “We’re in public after all, honey.” 
“Ugh, boo,” Rhodey teases. “Give me the list. I bet I can speed-run this.” 
“How? Technically, you don’t think you’ve ever been to this store before!” Tony exclaims with a gigantic, shit-eating grin. 
“Way to rub it in you bastard,” he says with a laugh. “Now come on, I wanna see what kind of salad you think we’re gonna get.” 
“Not you thinking you’re going to be eating junk food,” Tony sighs. 
“I lost my memory!” 
“That would’ve worked, like, two weeks ago. Now I know better.” 
Grocery shopping is...fun. They make fun of foods and different products, and Tony shows him which things he might like. 
“I like...I like fruit salad?” 
“Yes, yes you do Rhodey-dear,” Tony says. “Your favorite thing in the world for fruit.” 
“Seems suspicious.” 
“You’ll have to try it again, then.” 
Rhodey watches him as they’re shopping. He’s easy to be around, honestly. He has that sort of energy that makes you feel like he’s just happy to be in that moment. 
Tony also has very questionable taste in everything. 
“Quinoa?” 
“What? You’ve eaten it before! It’s not your least favorite thing that I’ve cooked?” 
“How is it not? Is it because I’m old?” 
“No, not because you’re old,” Tony scowls. “When you’d come back from the service, you’d eat literally anything I put in front of you. I once gave you a block of cheese and you just sat there. Eating it.” 
“There’s no way I did that.” 
“You did! Ask Pepper, she has a picture of it!” 
He goes back to quiet after that, remembering the picture. 
-
Jim isn’t even sure he wants to bring it up. He’s not even sure if he could love Tony again, and somehow that thought makes his head hurt. 
He knows that apparently, he fell in love once. 
So he needs answers. 
-
Jim had talked to his parents, but he hadn’t really had an opportunity to talk about anything important. Try as he had to get more information out of them, they weren’t giving much up, except for parts about his military achievements and funny stories that he’s written to them about. 
When he gets back home and he sees Mama, she knows. 
“Come here baby,” she says, putting him into her arms. “Let me answer your questions.” 
“Why him?” 
Mama laughs, grinning up at him from her place on the couch. 
“You reacted like this when you first started rooming together, too. I was worried that I’d be involved in a court case for attempted murder!” 
“And you weren’t?” 
“No,” Mama answers. “Instead, I get no phone call from you for three weeks, until the day before your holiday break started, and you told me that you were bringing who you used to call ‘the biggest nuisance since fruit flies’ home to Thanksgiving.” 
“Why did I...why did I bring him?” 
“I didn’t get that answered until he fell asleep,” she says. “I’m making you some coffee, alright dear?” 
“Okay, so long as I get an answer.” 
“So impatient,” she mutters as she makes her way to the kitchen, Jim following. 
He watches how easily his mom pours the coffee, and remembers in a brief flash that Tony always would bring the fancy, flavored creamer to the holiday events. 
“Oh come on,” Tony said. “You have gotten too used to my kindness, and there’s no reason to stop being kind. Besides, remember last year when you nearly cried because I bought creamer from the store? Yeah, not having a repeat of that.” 
“And would that be so bad?” he teased Tony, wrapping an arm around his waist, and-
He blinks. 
That was...that was definitely a new kind of memory. 
“James, are you alright?” His mother is looking at him, and maybe she knows, maybe she doesn’t know that he just remembered something. He’s honestly not sure. 
“Uh, yeah. Fine. I’m good.” 
Mama looks across the room, smiling. 
“He was a timid little thing when he got here. Fixed up the washing machine when it broke, just in time. Nearly wore a suit to dinner, said you didn’t tell him what kind of ‘casual’ we were going for...” 
He snorts as he slowly remembers that one. 
“What do you mean you didn’t mean a suit?!” Tony had wailed, gripping Rhodey’s shirt. “You said I had to dress nice!” 
“I meant literally anything but your Black Sabbath shirt!” 
“Why would I have worn my Black Sabbath shirt? Your mom would probably think I was a Satanist!” 
They both look at each other for a moment, and Rhodey’s the first one to break and laugh. 
“Listen you idiot, it won’t be so bad. We can just ditch the coat, ditch the tie, and you’ll be...okay. A bit nicer than most of us, but hey. That’s what I get for not telling you that suits are weird.” 
“Suits are not weird, you’re just uneducated in what is sophisticated,” Tony says, turning his nose up as Rhodey rolls his eyes. 
“Oh yeah, sure, because knowing which one is the dessert spoon is going to help me save people abroad. My bad.” 
Tony looks back at him, and his heart skips a beat. It does. Really, it does. 
It almost feels like someone’s reading back to him what he already knows at this point. 
His mom squeezes his hand, smiling. 
“You remember at least some of it, don’t you?” 
“Well...uh, yeah? I-I do.” 
“Does Tony know that you know that you’re...married?” 
“No,” Rhodey says. “I know some, but not enough.” 
“Give him a chance,” she says. “And get back home, I’m sure he’s missing you.” 
Rhodey embraces his mother, and prepares for the drive home. 
Being missed is a weird concept to deal with. 
He also did not exactly think of that. So he’s currently driving back and checked his phone to seven missed calls from Tony, three from Pepper, and one text from Happy that simply reads “lol ur dead hahaha good luckkkkk” 
Well shit. 
Tony, understandably is pissed and scared and a tad upset. 
Not a tad. 
“Where were you?” He says as soon as Rhodey appears back in the kitchen. Tony’s hands wander close, and he almost leans in. 
Almost. 
“I was visiting my parents,” he responds. “Sorry, forgot to text.” 
“Please remember next time, your-well, Tony’s annoying when you leave,” Pepper says. 
(Okay Rhodey doesn’t know how they got away with this for so long, it’s really, really obvious that they’ve been covering it up.) 
“I will,” Rhodey says. “Did I miss anything?” 
“I’ve elected that we’re going to cook tonight,” Tony declares. “I am absolutely sick to death of takeout, and I’m pretty sure that with your lack of knowledge on recipes now, I have you beat in the kitchen.” 
“I can still read recipes, you dumbass. Besides, I just remembered your stupid ‘bake’ hack for your stupid casserole dish, so...” 
“Out of everything, and that’s the thing you remember today?!” 
“Well, I also remembered that apparently you wore a suit to my house for Thanksgiving!” 
Tony stops. 
“What else you remember from that, or was it just that?” 
He doesn’t want to say anything in front of Pepper, doesn’t want to say anything just yet. 
“I remember that you were weird about your suit!” 
Tony deflates a bit, but still smiles. 
God, he looks gorgeous. 
Rhodey blinks. Shakes his head out of the thought.
“So. What are we cooking?” 
Tony and cooking is a very interesting concept because it shouldn’t work. 
He never stops moving, can lose interest quickly, and Rhodey would think that he could burn water. 
But he doesn’t. Tony hums along to music, and he tells him all about his favorite songs and why. 
It’s not any rock music, any heavy metal. 
“I don’t listen to that all the time,” Tony says. “You always think I do!” 
“Oh right, because someone who personally has Angus Young’s number just casually isn’t someone who listens to the band all the time, sure,” Rhodey says sarcastically. 
Tony grins, and it’s probably the best damned thing he’s seen all day. 
His heart zings at the realization that Tony smiling is what makes him smile now, what makes him want to stay and learn so much more about how they came to be, what they’ve done together. 
-
Dinner is fun. Tony tells him all about college and what they used to do, and what Rhodey had done. 
Memories are coming back easier. 
“You totally emailed the professor really petty responses!” Tony cries, laughing. 
“It wasn’t that petty,” Rhodey said, huffing. “He was an asshole anyway, he hated whenever we would come late because we wanted coffee, and your order was too complicated!” 
“It wasn’t that complicated!” 
“Oh I’m sorry, them having it written down behind the register for when you come in?” 
“Oh, like they didn’t have a description of you.” 
“Yeah, as your long-suffering companion,” Rhodey teases. 
“You’ve always been,” Tony says. “Because you’re the best.” 
Rhodey stops stirring the pot for a moment. 
“Rhodey? What is it?” 
“I...” 
Tony stands there, grinning. He’s nervously fidgeting, and it’s his move to say the vows. 
“You know, I wasn’t ever sure you’d be up to marrying someone like me,” Tony confesses. “Especially since I almost burned down our dorm room one time.” 
“Wasn’t just one time,” Rhodey teases. “But carry on.” 
“You loser,” Tony says. “Even now, interrupting my heartfelt moment.” 
There’s a ripple of laughter from the small crowd that’s gathered. Rhodey smiles at him, feels tears prick up around his eyes. 
“But I knew that I loved you ever since you would always buy my favorite ramen even though you hated it, and you were the one to get the pizza when I was sad. I knew I wanted the chance of seeing you every day, coming home to you at the end of the day. You’re home, Rhodey. You’re it. No one else could ever possibly hold a candle compared to you.” 
Rhodey startles, looking at Tony. 
“I...I remember. I remember!” 
“Remember what?” Tony asks cautiously. 
(He can’t be let down. Not again.) 
“You smashed cake in my face at our wedding!” Rhodey yells. “And we got married! We got married! Where the fuck is my ring?” 
Tony laughs, scooping Rhodey into a hug. 
“I can’t believe you remember.” 
“Well I was bound to at some point,” Rhodey says. “I can be smart, doofus.” 
“Don’t call me ‘doofus’ during an emotional outburst you absolute nimrod!” 
“I’ll call my husband whatever I want,” he teases, “although I still wanna know where my ring is.” 
“Come with me and get it,” Tony says. “I hid them in my room, just in case.” 
It’s all coming back, the steps they take, the way that Tony supports him as he moves slower. 
Iron Man, for one. War Machine the next. The dates they went on, the proposal. 
The rings are simple. They’re also not wedding rings. 
The class rings. 
Rhodey remembers getting them, remembers getting his initials and Tony’s on the inside, remembers how Tony made some “adjustments” after they received them. 
“You know that you got me,” Tony had told him. 
It slides on, and it feels right. Feels like something was missing. 
He looks up at Tony, smiling. 
“Show me the pictures, Tony.” 
Pepper walks in to find Rhodey absolutely terrorizing Tony about the decor choices from the reception. 
“So I agreed with red and gold? I had no problem with it?” 
“Well, I did do some major convincing, so...” 
“What does that mean?!” 
"You’ll remember later and be sad,” Pepper says. “Or happy. But please don’t tell me if you remember it.” 
“You loved the color scheme,” Tony says. “Because you love me!” 
“Now I am doubting,” Rhodey declares. “I loved you enough to have those colors?” 
“You lost a bet, Boss,” Friday interjects. “That’s why there were those themes.” 
“Friday,” Tony whines. “Why snitch on your creator like this?” 
“I am not programmed to have loyalty, Sir.” 
Rhodey laughs, taking Tony’s hand in his. 
“Well, I guess I’ll still love you. Even if our wedding theme was weird.” 
“It wasn’t that weird!” 
-
It takes about another month before all of the memories are all back to normal, and in that time Rhodey learns (and relearns) a couple of things: 
1.) The best feeling in the world is waking up to Tony, who sleeps very lightly and also wacked Rhodey in the face a total of ten times. (That’s not a new thing, he remembers.) 
2.) He special-orders peppermint-flavored coffee creamer. 
3.) Tony was lying when he said that Rhodey’s new favorite movie was The Goonies. 
(He mostly forgave him for that one.) 
217 notes · View notes
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Hey Jealousy – Part One.
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Charlie Gillespie x Reader
Summary: The reader and Charlie grew up together, were the best of friends. It didn’t work well for her having boyfriends until she goes to college. Is her best friend jealous, or is everyone imagining things?
Requested: Yes / No
TW: Swearing, implies sexual intercourse, swearing, drinking Author’s notes: I had a weird dream (non-sexual) about an ex of mine and trying to make Charlie jealous (as you do), and this idea came from that. Whether it makes any sense at all remains to be seen.
Acknowledgements: The gorgeous @dream-a-little-bigger-x listened to me waffle on about this and read through most of it for me. Thank you my love.
Pairing: Fem Reader x Charlie Gillespie (eventually)
Words: 10,076
I have no idea when I’ll be posting Part Two as I am yet to write it... but I was way too impatient to sit on this. 
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Growing up being the best friend of Charles Gillespie was equal parts the best and worst thing. The best because he was genuinely the nicest guy, ever. He was outgoing, inclusive of everyone, and so much fun to be around. Charlie never sat still, didn’t do well with being bored, so it meant we made a lot of memories together along with our other friends.
The worst because for some reason, being best friends with a guy was off putting to other guys. Hanging out with Charlie ninety percent of the time seemed to prevent them approaching me. Even when I made it obvious I liked them, they seemed too scared to speak to you beyond a ‘hi’ or a ‘how you doin’?’. Charlie never seemed to notice how frustrated I was.
When Charlie moved to Toronto to follow his dreams of becoming an actor, it felt as if I’d lost a limb. I’d known him my entire life, had been friends for the whole time, had gone through all our firsts together, and with him not around, I didn’t know what to do with myself.
Admittedly, I was starting college just over the border in the US so there was that to keep me busy, but it wasn’t the same. Moving away from home, not having him with me, laughing at the other freshmen to help relieve my nerves. But I was alone and had no idea what I was doing.
Once I’d found my dorm room, I sat on the bed, surrounded by bags and boxes, and pulled my phone out of my bag. I needed my best friend right now, despite knowing he was probably out at auditions. I pull up my favorite contacts and tap on Charlie’s name, hoping he’ll be able to answer.
“Hey. I only have five minutes. How did the move go? Is your roommate cool? Any guys took your fancy? Have you had a chance to look around yet?” Eventually he stopped asking questions long enough to take a breath, letting me finally cut in to speak.
“Jesus Christ, Gillespie. I know you don’t have long, but do you really need to pepper me with so many questions? Don’t answer that otherwise I’ll never get to say anything.” I take a shaky breath and slowly start answering his questions. By the time I finish filling him on my day so far, he’s grinning at me.
“Sounds great, Trouble. I’m really pleased for you.” I rolled my eyes at his use of the nickname he gave me when we were seven and I punched a boy in the nose for tripping Charlie over and laughing at him cutting his chin on a small rock. “So, what do you have planned for the rest of the day?”
“I have some orientation thing, then I don’t know. Maybe just chill in my room, get to know my roommate when they finally get here.”
“Hey, listen. I gotta go. But I’ll call you when I get back to the apartment so you can tell me more. Especially if your roommate’s pretty.”
“You’re such a fucking horndog, Gillespie. Love you.”
“Love you too, Trouble.”
My ‘don’t call me that’ died on my lips as the call ended and the photo of Charlie and me camping at the Bay of Fundy a couple years back that had been my wallpaper since his sister took it filled the screen. My happiness of speaking to him faded as I realized I was alone, again.
:: ::
I had been at college for three months, and I was almost at the end of my first semester. Charlie was busy with filming a show he’d booked. I knew nothing about 2nd generation, but he was so excited, I couldn’t help but be so happy for him. We spoke most days and texted so much that all my friends thought we were dating. No matter how much I told them we were only friends, no one ever believed me.
The wall above my desk was covered in photos of the two of us and our other friends, and your roommate, Lena, was obsessed with him.
“Honey, if you ain’t tapping that, if he ever comes to visit, I’m stepping up.” She’d told me the first time she looked at a photo of Charlie. Every time the two of us facetimed, and she was in the room with me, she would butt in and flirt outrageously with him. I would laugh at him flirting back, enjoying the fact my two closest friends, one old and one new, got along.
I’d found it easier to settle into college life than I expected without having him with me. Maybe, if I was honest, him not being around was possibly the reason I was finding it easier. As much as I loved him and having him around, having something that was just for me meant something special.
I’d just finished a class and was walking across the quad when my phone rang in my bag, Charlie’s ringtone blared out. He’d picked En Vogue’s Whatta Man when we were about thirteen because ‘Trouble, it just describes me perfectly’. I’d just never got around to changing it, and now it always made me smile whenever I heard it.
“Hey, Trouble.” A groan and an eyeroll. “Whatcha doin’?”
“I just finished my classes for the day. I’m going for coffee with Lena. How’s things over there?”
“Yeah, we’re going strong.” There was a lot of indistinct background noise I couldn’t identify behind him, and it was hard to hear him. He hadn’t facetimed, which was strange, but it was probably a flyby call while he was waiting for a scene to be set up, or whatever actors did. I had no clue despite him telling me multiple times.
“That’s great.” As I walked beside Lena who was making kissy faces at me as Charlie and I spoke, I couldn’t help but smile at hearing his voice. It wasn’t the same as having him with me in person, but it was the best we’d have until Christmas break.
“Look, give me five and call me back. I just gotta speak to someone real quick.” Before I could answer, he cut the call.
“Well, that was the quickest call I’ve ever seen you two have.” Lena commented, a small smile on her face.
“He wants me to call him back in five.” It was typical Charlie, start something, then expect me to finish it.
“I swear, you speak to him more than your family.” She wasn’t wrong.
“He’s kind of like my security blanket. He talks me off the edge whenever I’m feeling overwhelmed and stuff. He’s never judged me for the way I overthink, and he’s so easy to be with.”
“I swear, if I didn’t know better, I would think you’re in love with him.”
“I do love him. He’s like the brother I never wanted and often get frustrated with, but I couldn’t imagine my life without him.”
“Uh huh…” She didn’t need to elaborate. She’d been saying the same thing since our first day. She was insistent that there was more to mine and Charlie’s relationship than there was. I was used to her by now and was able to ignore it now. “You better phone him back.” She reminded me as we neared the campus coffee shop. With a smile, I hit call on his contact.
Behind me, the sound of P!nk’s Trouble, my ringtone on Charlie’s phone rang out. Confusion washed over me as Lena started laughing. I spun round to see Charlie leaning up against a tree, a wide smile on his face.
I cut the call and ran over to him, throwing myself at him. As always, he caught me, his arms wrapping around my waist and pulling me in tight against his body.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked when he finally placed my feet back on the ground below me.
“I have the weekend off, so I drove down to see my best girl,” he looked at Lena with a smile, “and you, Trouble.” I punched him in the arm as he pulled my roommate into a hug.
“Remind me why I keep you around?” I asked him as the three of us entered the coffee shop.
“Because you adore this pretty face.” I rolled my eyes as we found a table after making our orders.
“You keep telling yourself that, Gillespie.”
:: ::
For the entire weekend, I showed Charlie around the campus and took him to parties. We got wasted, he enjoyed meeting my friends, but my favorite moment was on the Sunday when it was just the two of us, about a half hour outside of town, walking along a hidden trail.
“Trust you to find this place. I never even knew it was here.”
“You need to take more time for yourself, away from campus. Remember what it’s like to just be.”
“Do you get much of a chance to do that?” I asked as we walked, our arms brushing together the way they always did whenever we spent time together.
“Not as much as I like, but I try to get out at least once a week. It’s not the same though, not without you.” I looked up at him and saw a softness to his face not many people got to see.
“I’ve missed you, you big goof.”
“I’ve missed you too, Trouble.”
“You gotta stop calling me that.” I rolled my eyes, making him laugh and nudge at me with his shoulder.
“Never gonna happen, kiddo.”
“Kiddo? For fuck’s sake, Gillespie. You’re like two months older than me. You’re not exactly drawing your pension just yet.”
“It all counts.” He lifted his wrist and looked at his watch. “I better head back to my car and start heading back. I’ve got an early call in the morning.”
My heart sank at his words. I’d known the entire weekend he couldn’t stay forever and as we turned around to walk back the way we came, I felt a feeling of sadness wash over me.
“Hey, don’t do that.” He scolded me.
“Do what?”
“Fold in on yourself. We’ll both be home for Christmas.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve just enjoyed having your ugly face around.”
“Ugly? You wound me.”
“Whatever.”
Silence fell over us as we continued walking, and the closer we got to the parking lot, the sadder I became at having to say goodbye to him again. He took hold of my hand, interlinking our fingers the way we always did.
Finally, we reached his car and came to a standstill next to it.
“Thank you for coming to see me. I needed this weekend.”
“I’ll always be there when you need me.” I knew he meant it too. He always did.
“I know. It’s one of the main reasons I adore you.” I wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed him tight. I wasn’t ready to let him go, but knew I had to. Knew I had to carry on with this new chapter of my life that didn’t revolve around our friendship, knew he needed to get back to work and forge his way in his chosen career.
“Love you, Trouble.” He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead before pulling away from our hug and unlocking his car. “Gonna miss you.”
“Gonna miss you more. Let me know when you’re back, so I don’t worry.”
“I promise.”
Lena walked to stand beside me as I watched Charlie climb into his car and pull away. We stood and watched him drive away until I couldn’t see his car anymore.
“That boy is in love with you.” I ignored her as I turned to walk back to our dorm. “Just as much as you are with him.”
:: ::
Christmas break had been crazy. My large family and the Gillespie family always mixed for the holiday, and it was always loud, full of laughter, and more than a little raucous. It was my favorite time of the year.
This year was no different, but it was over all too soon, and I barely saw Charlie. He got back home on Christmas Eve, and had to leave again the day after Christmas Day thanks to reshoots and stuff I didn’t really understand. Most of my time had been spent with his sister, Megan, but there was a hole in my celebrations. A Charlie-sized hole.
He didn’t even make it back home for New Year, and I saw in midnight on the back porch of my parent’s house alone, a glass of champagne untouched next to me. I’d tried facetiming him, but my calls had gone unanswered.
Arriving back at college was a relief, and the holiday period had made me realize I’d become so co-dependent on my best friend, I was holding myself back from living my life.
“Hey bitch, how was Mr. Tallish, dark, and gorgeous?” Lena asked as we both unpacked from our vacations.
“Busy. I hardly saw or spoke to him.” I could hear the bitterness in my own voice and hated it, but I also kind of didn’t care.
“I’m sorry, babe. How about we head out to a ‘welcome back’ party, get dressed up, and break some hearts?”
After thinking about it for a split second, I grinned and agreed.
“Fuck it. Why not?”
Usually, campus parties were casual affairs; sweats and tank tops, but the flyers about this one was emblazoned with the words ‘dress to impress’, so Lena and I went all out.
Walking across campus in my favorite LBD and a pair of amazing stiletto pumps, I felt like I could conquer the world. I’d made an effort with my hair and makeup, and when Lena was ready, we’d taken a shit ton of selfies, posting them on Instagram. It was amazing what getting dressed up did for a girl’s self-esteem.
“Honey, when Charlie sees those photos on insta, he’s gonna be calling you like crazy.”
“Well, it’s a shame my phone is on silent in my purse, then. Tonight is for me and you to have a great time.”
“And maybe try and get over one guy with another?”
“Lena, I don’t need to get over Charlie. He’s my best friend, and I adore him. But that’s all it is.”
As we entered the party – in a frat house, naturally – I couldn’t help but be impressed with how dressed up everyone was. I followed Lena through the crowd into the kitchen where we managed to grab some drinks.
“Yeah, okay. You keep telling yourself that. I can only go by what my eyes show me, and there is more going on between you two than either of you want to admit.” I opened my mouth to say something, but she cut me off. “I’ll shut up now. Let’s go, Momma’s in the mood for dancin’.”
I didn’t see Lena for three days after the party. She’d met some guy and had spent the entire time in his bed. It had been nice to have the room to myself as I caught up with movies and TV shows on Netflix I had missed over the holiday period. By the time classes started back up, she was back and seriously study mode.
“John was asking after you again today.” She told me two weeks back into classes as we walked in the wintery sunshine to get some lunch.
“Oh.” I had no idea who John was, but I was going along with it.
“You don’t remember him, do you?”
“No clue, sorry.”
After gasping, she proceeded to fill me on John. Apparently, I’d danced with him a lot at the frat party. He was six feet tall, well built, but not huge, and had a hint of red hair. None of it was ringing any bells, but seeing as she was sleeping with his roommate, she saw him regularly.
“How can you not remember him? you were all over him.”
“Lena, I’d almost drank my weight in tequila, I would have been impressed if I’d remembered my own name, never mind someone else’s.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. After tapping on the screen for a couple of minutes, she turned it so I could see.
The guy on screen was gorgeous. Piercing green eyes that reminded me of the forest near my house, and a wide, friendly smile.
“Judging by that reaction, you’d have no problems coming out with us tonight? Nothing heavy, just a few drinks and some food.”
“I wouldn’t be averse to food and drinks.” Laughing at my answer, she linked our arms and steered me into our favorite sandwich bar.
:: ::
The first meeting turned into a first date, then a second, a third, and before I’d even realized, John and I were dating, and it had been three months since that first meeting that I could remember. He was easy going and fun to be around, plus he loved being outside rather than cooped up in a room with another person. Especially when that person was his roommate who was often making out for hours with my roommate. We spent a lot of time on the hidden trail I’d discovered with Charlie, often taking a blanket so we could have a picnic under the lush canopy of trees.
John was a photography major, and never went anywhere without his camera – unless there was going to be alcohol – and my photo wall in my room was soon full of photos of the two of us, of me and Lena, and random things he saw that made him think of me. I had never been tagged in so many photos of me sober on Instagram in my life, and I loved every minute of our time together, but while I was happy, and living my best life there was still something missing. A 5,8” dark haired something.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spoken to Charlie for longer than five minutes, and never mind an actual facetime call. He’d finished up with 2nd Generation and had gone back home for a few weeks. I’d seen photos of him and his family, mostly his cousin Madi, doing the things I would usually be doing with them. Spring break was coming up, and while most of my friends were planning crazy trips down to Florida or Mexico, all I wanted to do was to go home.
“Hey, what are you doing for Spring Break?” I asked John as we lay tangled together in my bed, a sheen of sweat on both of our skin.
“I haven’t made any plans yet, why?”
“Fancy coming to Canada?”
:: ::
Pulling up in the drive outside my parent’s house, I look over at John in the passenger seat. He looked nervous as hell which made me chuckle. I unclipped my belt and leaned over to give him a quick kiss.
“Stop panicking. It’s going to be fine.” I told him. My parents were looking forward to meeting him. “I should be the nervous one. I’ve never brought a guy home before.”
“What? Never? Not even in high school?” I shook my head. “What about your prom date?”
“Me and Charlie went to prom together. We did everything together, and it stopped guys asking me out and stuff. So yeah…” I drifted off, realizing that this was my first relationship, my first boyfriend.
“That’s cool. Come one, let’s get this over with so we can both calm down.” He gave me another kiss before getting out of the car, retrieving our bags from the trunk. By the time I’d got out, he was standing beside me, holding out his hand. I took hold of it and led him to the house.
“Mom, dad? Anyone?” The house was silent when I let us in, John dropping our bags on the floor in the entry. “Hello? Favorite daughter is home for a week.”
“Only daughter you mean.” My younger brother, Tyler came bounding down the stairs, skidding to a stop when he saw John standing next to me.
“Okay, I wasn’t expecting that.” I glared at him. “I mean, I’ve seen photos and shit, but I didn’t expect you to be so big. Nice to meet you, man.” Tyler held out his hand for John to shake, which he did, chuckling at my brother’s lack of brain to mouth filter.
“Ty, where is everyone?”
“Out in the yard. Dad’s cleaning off the barbecue and mom’s making sure he does it right.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Not that I expected it to, but nothing had changed. Tyler took off through the house out into the back yard where my family were waiting.
“Ready for a trial by fire?” I asked John, looking up at him, smiling.
“Best to get it over and done with.”
Turning my whole body so I was fully facing him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and stood on my tiptoes to give him a kiss.
“They’re gonna love you, I promise.” I murmured against his plump lips. He took a deep breath, gave me another quick kiss, and untangle me from him.
“Let’s do this.”
Once again, with our hands linked, I led the way, this time through the house I’d grown up in and out into the large back yard. Which was full of people, not just my family. Of course, the Gillespies were here too.
As John and I came to a stop on the ack porch, I cast my eyes across the space before me, looking for Charlie. It was a mixture of habit and wanting to see him, but I couldn’t find him.
“He’s not here.” Megan had jogged over and pulled me into a hug so she could whisper into my ear. Her words caused a wave of sadness to wash over me. “And we finally get to meet this guy who is all over your insta?” She grinned at John; her smile achingly similar to that of her brother.
“John, this is Megan, the little sister I never wanted, but got stuck with anyway.” As the two of the chatted, the three of us moved down into the garden so I could introduce my boyfriend to everyone.
:: ::
John had been stolen away by my dad, Tyler, and Charlie’s dad, leaving me to spend time with my mom. We sat on her favorite garden seat, watching everyone in silence for a few minutes before she turned to me.
“He’s nice. I can see why you like him so much.” I looked at her, waiting. Eventually, I realized she wasn’t going to say it.
“But? I know there’s a but in there somewhere.”
“No, no but.” She was lying, I could tell by the way her voice was at least an octave higher than usual.
“Mom. You can be honest with me, I’m not gonna bite your head off.”
“I just worry you’re rushing things. At college everything so… intense, and you’re constantly aware of it ending, that you’ll be leaving that part of your life behind you one day. What then?”
“I-we-I…” I didn’t have a coherent answer for her. She wasn’t wrong, but she’d also always told me that college was supposed to be the best time of my life, so why wouldn’t I spend it with someone I not only enjoyed being with, but who I was attracted too at the same time?
“Honey, I’m not trying to make you question things, I just want you to remember who you are and what you want in life.”
“Well, I want to be with John for now. Isn’t that enough?”
“If it is for you, it is for me.” She pulled me in for a hug. I loved my mom, but she’d confused me with our conversation. “You do realize your dad’s going to pitch a fit when he realizes you’re sharing a room.”
I stared at her. I’d assumed my parents would make him sleep in the spare room.
“Wait, what?”
“Sweetheart, neither of us are stupid. We know how things are at college, and as long as you’re being safe, I can’t tell you what to do anymore.”
Before I could say anything, Megan came over to pull me away. Arm in arm, we walked to the end of the garden, away from the house. Well, she led me, I merely went along with it.
“What’s up?” I asked her. Usually, she was a lot like her brother, constantly moving and talking, but now she was quiet and subdued. “Meg, seriously. You’re making me worried.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to get you on your own so we can talk about that gorgeous hunk you brought home.” Relief flooded through me and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Jesus Christ, you scared me.” We sat down on an old swing my dad had made when I was a kid and talked. She peppered me with questions about college, the guys, the parties, and most of all, about John. She was a senior in high school and couldn’t wait for her own college experience. She’d chosen to stay in Canada to study.
I answered all of her questions, but we were soon interrupted by our being called to finally get some food. I was starving and practically sprinted over to where my dad was piling food on a table laden with salad, fried, and all kinds of family favorites. As I loaded up my plate, John hovered next to me, doing the same.
“Oh, look what the cat dragged in.” Megan’s voice was loud, making me turn my head. Charlie was walking toward us, wearing his hiking gear grinning at us all. I put my plate down and ran at him, our usual greeting.
“Trust you to show when the food’s ready.” I grinned at him as we broke apart and went back to the table to retrieve my plate, pulling it out of Charlie’s reach as he tried to steal a rib. “Get your own, there’s plenty.”
“But we always share, Trouble.” I rolled my eyes.
“Not today, Gillespie. This is all mine, and I may even have seconds.” I stuck my tongue out at him. A throat clearing behind me reminded me John was still with me. “Oh hey, you can finally meet John.”
“Yeah, great to finally meet you, man.” Charlie shook my boyfriend’s hand, his smile still on his face, but I noticed it didn’t completely reach his eyes.
“You too.”
“Well, I’m hungry, catch up later?” As Charlie nodded, I led John away so others could help themselves, over to a table with my parents. Why had that been more awkward than I’d expected? As I sat down, I caught Megan watching me, a strange look on her face.
:: ::
As the sun began to set, and things began to wind down, I decided to take John for a walk around the neighborhood I grew up in. We left the house, hand in hand, and walked along the street, passing Charlie’s house. I averted my eyes from the building, not wanting to make John think my attention wasn’t all on him.
“It’s nice here, very calm.” He commented as we reached the end of the street. “I grew up in the city, and it never got this quiet.” When I looked up at him, he was smiling softly.
“Come on, there’s a great playground just up the road.” I led the way, tugging on his hand as a laugh escaped me.
As we sat on the swings, both of us swaying back and forth as the sun set around us, bathing the sky with a vibrant orange. It was my favorite part of the day, one that made me think back over what had happened and made me realize that a new day was coming, a new chance to experience life. Charlie and I had spent so much time as kids on these very swings at this time, reflecting on choices we’d made throughout the day.
At the thought of my best friend, a slight movement caught my eye. When I looked at the path leading to the gate of the play park, I could see a figure retreating. Despite not being able to see the person’s face, I knew it was him. His shoulders were hunched, and his hands were shoved into the pockets of his shorts. The sound of John’s camera taking photos distracted me and I looked away for a minute. When I looked back, my best friend was nowhere to be seen.
“Stop taking photos of me.” I groaned, knowing he wouldn’t.
“How can I? you’re the most beautiful thing around.” Standing, John walked over to me and took hold of the chains with side of me to still the movement of the swing. He stood between my legs and bent his head and captured my lips in a kiss that started off slow and soft, but soon turned heated.
Letting go of the chains, John managed to lift me off the swing, holding me against him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and my arms around his neck. Slowly, he began to walk across the playground, only stopping when he reached the large wooden playhouse I’d played in as a kid.
Putting me on my feet and letting go, he removed the camera from around his neck and placed it in a safe place before climbing into the playhouse, removing his shirt and placing it on the wooden boards. When he looked over at me, his green eyes which were usually the color of spring grass were now the color of a lush, dark forest.
“What? Here? Are you trying to soil my childhood memories?”
“Totally, now come here before I have to take matters into my own hands.” He palmed the bulge in his shorts, locking eyes with me. With a laugh that was huskier than I’d ever sounded, I climbed in after him and straddled his thighs.
:: ::
Waking up at the crack of dawn, wrapped in John’s strong arms, in my childhood bedroom should have felt weird. But it didn’t. I was warm and content, but as we had a busy day planned, I couldn’t stay in our little cocoon. We had a camping trip to get ready for.
I crawled out of his arms and dived into the bathroom for a quick shower. By the time I emerged wrapped in a towel, John was sat up in my bed, scrolling on his phone.
“Come on you, we’re going camping. Up and at ‘em.” I was excited. It had been far too long since I’d been down to Fundy and I couldn’t wait to get on the road.
“Babe, it’s not even 6a.m.” He groaned.
“Yeah, and? Come on. Need to fuel up with a good breakfast.” I pulled on some clothes and left the room, skipping down the stairs. ‘My dad had always been an early riser, so it was no surprise to find him in the kitchen holding a steaming cup of coffee as he read a book at the breakfast bar.
“Morning daddy.” I kissed his cheek as I passed him to get to the coffee pot.
“Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?” I could hear the unasked question behind his actual question.
“Yes, like a log. Stop worrying about me, I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“Don’t I know it. Please, just tell-”
“Dad. Nothing happened last night. And even if it had, I would be careful. I’m not an idiot.”
“Could have fooled me.” Tyler interrupted us, grinning when I gave him the finger.
“Stop picking on your sister. And you,” he looked at me, “put that finger down.”
I laughed as I sipped at my coffee before telling them I was going out to grab the camping gear.
“I’ll go and make sure Charlie and Megan are up and ready.” Tyle put his own cup down and left the kitchen. I froze on the spot I stood in
Shit. I didn’t realize he’d invited them.
“Everything okay?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, just trying to work out what we need.” I lied before flashing him a quick smile. I could hear John coming downstairs. “Please, no interrogation.” I hissed at my dad. He drew a cross over his heart as my boyfriend entered the kitchen, his hair damp from the shower.
“Morning, sir.” He greeted my dad.
“Please, John. Sir was my father. Call me Frank like everyone else.”
After giving John a quick kiss, I went out to the shed to gather up everything we’d need for a couple of days down in Fundy.
An hour later, Tyler and I had expertly packed up the trunk of my car and were just about to climb in when Charlie and Megan pulled up in Charlie’s car.
“Ready to rock and roll?” He called out of his window, a wide grin on his face.
“You know it. Last one there buys lunch.” I called out our usual challenge as I jumped into the driver’s seat, Tyler urging John in as Charlie pulled away with a screech. Within minutes, the doors were closed, the engine started, and we were on our way.
“Is she always this competitive?” John turned to face my brother in the back seat as I turned the radio on, looking for something to sing along to.
“Only with Charlie, so yes. Constantly. They can make a contest out of everything.” I rolled my eyes.
“No I don’t.”
“Sis, I love you, but you do. You and Charlie are a fucking nightmare at times.”
“You’re talking bullshit.” I tried to change the subject, but Tyler was on a roll.
“Remember that time you two tried to eat more popping candy than the other and you ended up barfing all over yourself?”
“Really? You bring that up? I was fifteen, Ty. And I’d drank about a gallon of soda. It was the gas.”
“Whatever. What about the time when you-” I cut him off.
“That’s enough. Babe, did you go camping much growing up?” I looked at John who had gone quiet. He was looking out of the window, and it took me tapping him on the knee to get his attention.
“Nah, not really. I’m a city boy, so we didn’t really do the whole ‘great outdoors’ thing.”
“Not even on vacation?” Tyler asked.
“Nah, we did Disney and Universal, stuff like that.”
“Well, you’re in for a treat. This is our favorite place on Earth and your camera’s gonna get a good workout.” I smiled at him as I intertwined our fingers as I drove.
:: ::
Thanks to my brother have the bladder the size of a pea and three cans of soda, we arrived at our usual camping ground over half an hour after Charlie and Megan. They’d already set up their tent and were waiting for us as if they didn’t have a care in the world, music drifting softly from the stereo in his car.
“Tyler potty breaks, again?” Charlie asked, laughing.
“He travels back with you.” I grumbled as I opened the trunk and began to drag our gear out. Instantly, Charlie was on his feet, unfolding the tents to put them up with Tyler’s help.
“What do you need me to do?” John asked me.
“Take those coolers of food and drinks over to Megan. She’s always in charge of that stuff, makes sure we don’t live off candy and chips.”
I couldn’t help but watch the muscles in his back as he lifted the two coolers out of the trunk. He wasn’t overly muscly, but his form was impressive. I stood back and admired him for a minute.
“Hey, Trouble. Give me a hand with this. Your brother’s still useless.” Charlie called out.
By the time the tents were all up, one for Tyler, and one for me and John, we were all starving.
“Hey, losers. You owe us lunch.” Charlie called out, giving his sister a high five.
“Let me just get changed, and we’ll go.” In the middle of the camping ground was a café that served some of the best food. I ducked into the tent and changed my shirt and jeans for a bikini top and denim shorts. As I emerged from the small space, I pulled one of Charlie’s old cut off shirts over my head. “Right, let’s go and introduce John to poutine.
“What?”
“Oh, man. It’s the best.” Tyler slapped him on the back as he led the way. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Charlie watch as John took hold of my hand.
:: ::
The sun was setting and the five of us were sitting around a campfire. Charlie had his guitar and he and Megan were singing some of their favorite songs. As always, I was blown away by their talent and how well their voices blended together. I’d always been a bit jealous of how musical the Gillespie family was. All of them sang, played instruments, and dance – well Charlie didn’t that well, but he always gave his all when his sister dragged him into it.
John sat next to me, his camera lifted up to his face as he took photo after photo, something he’d been doing all day. He’d told me he’d been blown away by the beauty of the place and that gave me a warm feeling, being able to share one of my favorite places with him.
“Hey, Trouble. Your turn.” Charlie handed me the guitar.
“Not tonight, Gillespie.” I was exhausted and it had been far too long since I’d played or sang. I knew I was never going to sound as good as him and Megan; I rarely did.
“Nope, you’re not getting out of it. Come on, you know you wanna.” He was egging me on, and knew I’d give in eventually.
“Come on, it’s tradition.” Megan joined in with the cajoling as Tyler called out his two cents worth. With a sigh, I took the guitar from Charlie and propped it on my knee.
“Any requests?” I asked.
“Under the Bridge.” The Red Hot Chili Peppers song was one of my favorites and I loved singing it.
“I didn’t know you played.” John sounded surprised.
“Yeah, Charlie taught me a few years ago. It’s been a while though and I’m rusty as hell because I never got my own guitar.” I ran my fingers down the strings before making myself a bit more comfortable. “Hey, you got a spare pick?” I asked Charlie. He reached into the pocket on the front of his soft guitar case before leaning over to hand me the small piece of plastic. I couldn’t help but laugh at the poop emoji design on it. I’d ordered him a bunch of them as part of his birthday present the previous year.
I ran through the song in my mind reminding me of the lyrics and chords before I began to play.
Sometimes I feel like I don't have a partner
Sometimes I feel like my only friend
Is the city I live in, the city of angels
Lonely as I am, together we cry
I drive on her streets 'cause she's my companion
I walk through her hills 'cause she knows who I am
She sees my good deeds and she kisses me windy
Well, I never worry, now that is a lie
As I expected, Charlie joined in on the bridge, harmonizing with me. We’d always sang this song together. It had become a bit of a tradition at gatherings with our families and friends. As always when we sang together, Charlie and I locked eyes, a small smile on his face made me smile back as we sang. There was a connection between us when we sang, one that had been there from the day we became friends.
I don't ever wanna feel
Like I did that day
Take me to the place I love
Take me all the way
I don't ever wanna feel
Like I did that day
Take me to the place I love
Take me all the way
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Finally, the song came to an end and silence filled the air around us. Without saying anything, I handed the guitar and pick back to Charlie without looking at him. I leaned over, picked up my bottle of beer, and drained the last of it. For some reason, a weird feeling had come over me while we’d sung, and I didn’t know how to read it. In the end, I decided to ignore it and escape into my tent.
“I’m tired guys. I’m gonna turn in.” As I faked a yawn, I didn’t bother waiting for a response as I stood up, dropped the bottle in a trash bag, gave John a quick kiss, and crawled into my tent. As I stripped out of my hoodie and sweats and crawled into my sleep bag, Megan stuck her head through the flap.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long day.” It hadn’t really, and she knew it hadn’t. We hadn’t done anything different to what we would normally in Fundy.
“Okay…”
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Sure. Night.” With a small smile she disappeared from the opening of the tent, leaving me to settle down and try to get to sleep.
I was still wide awake when John crawled into the tent an hour or so later. He tried not to make too much noise as he stripped down to his boxers before getting into his own sleeping bag. The lamp hanging from the tent roof was turned on low, just about lighting up the space around us.
“Hey.” I kept my voice low, knowing from experience how the sound travelled at night.
“Hey.” He repeated as I turned to face him, propping myself up on one elbow.
“Have you had a good day?”
“It’s been great. I can see why you guys love it out here.
“Yeah, it’s great. We’re lucky having all this pretty much on our doorstep. I couldn’t imagine not being able to get out here. I bet you got some great shots.”
“I did. I can’t wait to get back and start editing them. Some should work well for school too.”
“Hey,” I dropped my voice even lower. “Wanna join the bags together and… snuggle?” I waggled my eyebrows at him in the dim lighting, making him smile softly.
“Not tonight. I’m so tired after all the hiking and swimming you guys made me do today.” He turned his head to look at me. “That okay?”
“Of course.” I leaned over and kissed him before getting comfortable again against his solid form. This time, I did fall asleep.
:: ::
When I woke up, the light was bright around me, despite being inside the tent. I was also alone. Sitting up, I wiped the sleep from my eyes and crawled out of the tent. John was sitting on his own, a cup of coffee cradled between his hands.
“Morning.” I press a kiss to his cheek as I sit down.
“Aren’t you cold?” he asks, looking at my bare legs. I’m still only in t-shirt I slept in.
“Not at all. It’s not that cold.” I chuckle as I pour myself a coffee. There’s a slight hint of steam in front of my face as I speak.
“It’s freezing, babe.”
“I’m Canadian, remember. This is a gorgeous spring morning.” I lean over and give him another kiss, this time it’s more than a simple and perfunctory peck. John’s hand cups the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair. When we pull apart, I notice he’s breathing a little heavier than he was before and it makes me grin.
“You’re crazy.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” Tyler’s voice surprises the both of us. When I turn, he’s standing over us, smirking at me.
“Uh… why am I suddenly nervous?” John asks my brother. They seem to have gotten on really well which pleases me. Tyler tipped me out of my seat before making himself comfortable in my place. Glaring at him, I moved around and sat on John’s lap.
“How are you with heights?” Tyler asks.
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“How do you feel about deep water?”
I knew where this was going, so I decided to go and grab a shower in the shower block. As I ducked into the tent, I heard John exclaim.
“She does what?”
“Yeah, she and Charlie cliff dive.” I turned to look at John and laughed at the look of horror on his face. “It started out as a dare, of course, and now they do it every time we’re here.”
Leaving the two of them talking, I grab my washbag and take a walk over to the block of showers. Thankfully, there isn’t much of a queue and I’m able to snag one pretty quickly. The water’s not exactly hot, which means I don’t dawdle as I wash. Eventually, I emerge fully dressed, a towel wrapped around my hair and almost bump into Charlie.
“Woah, hey. You’re up late.” He commented, steadying me so I wouldn’t fall over.
“Not really.” It was barely 8 a.m., which to Charlie was practically a lie in. “I was up before you.”
“Nope. I was up at sunrise and went for a walk.” I rolled my eyes.
“Of course you were.”
“Are you heading back?”
“Yeah, I want to get ready for the cliffs.” I grinned at him. He fell into step beside me, and we walked back to the tents together.
“Remember that time you pushed me before I was ready, and I belly flopped so hard?”
“Oh my God, you screamed like a little girl who got a pony for her birthday. It was hilarious.”
“It also hurt like a fucking bitch.”
Charlie and I approached our tents, laughing to find John, Tyler, and Megan watching us as if we’d lost our minds.
“Who’s ready for the cliffs?” I asked, wiping the tears of laughter from my eyes. The memory of Charlie screaming lived in my head, rent free, and I couldn’t not laugh about it.
“Uh…” John looked nervous. After throwing my washbag into the tent, I bounced over to him and wrapped my arms around his waist. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Charlie turn his back and crawl into the tent he shared with his sister.
“No need to be nervous. You don’t have to dive if you don’t want to, just stay near the top, take photos, and enjoy the view. It’s all Megan and Ty do, because they’re both massive chickens.” As I spoke, I looked over at my brother who was flipping me off. “Don’t decide now. See how you feel nearer the time.”
Once we were at the cliffs, Megan spread out a blanket and sat down, a book in her hand. Tyler joined her, scrolling through his phone. John and I stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down into the ocean. We were nowhere near the top, as over the years we’d worked out this was the best place for jumping into the water without it taking an age to get back, but it was high enough to get my blood pumping.
“Yeah… I think I’ll sit this one out.” Moving back, John joined Tyler and Meghan, but remained standing, his camera at the ready. I moved back a little but stayed fairly close to the edge so I could get ready.
“Gillespie?” I called out my challenge as I stripped out of my shorts and tank tops, kicking my sandals off, revealing a mismatched bikini. Behind me, I heard a sharp intake of breath and turned to grin at John, but he had his back to me and was taking photos of the view.
A roar sounded and Charlie ran past me, launching himself off the edge of the cliffs. He ‘battle cry’ could be heard the entire way down until it was broken off by a splash.
With a grin on my face, I followed, dipping myself forward into a dive. I cut through the water, plunging deep before arcing up to break the surface.
“Show off.” Charlie called out as he tread the water.
“Of course. I need to make you look bad at something.” I swam over to him, taking hold of his hand and pulling him back to shore so we could start the climb back to where the others waited. There was a lot of pushing and shoving between the two of us as we made out way, and when we finally reached them, I was out of breath from laughing so much. Charlie’s arm was slung over my shoulder as he struggled to keep himself upright.
“Then you just whipped your top off and jumped.” He was howling with laughter. “That’s why we’ve never given you tequila since.”
I gave him a friendly shove.
“It wasn’t just the tequila, and you know it Gillespie. We hadn’t eaten all day, then you pulled out Jose and it was game over.” He grabbed me around the waits and walked toward the edge, as if he was going to throw me. Admittedly, if he did, it wouldn’t have been the first time. I screamed at him to put me down, hearing my brother and Megan laughing. Eventually, he did as I asked before diving off the edge again, this time executing an almost perfect dive. “Asshole.” I muttered as I grabbed a towel to wrap around my waist.
It wasn’t until I sat down next to him, that I realized John was very quiet and was scrolling through his phone.
:: ::
Arriving back at my house early evening, I was ready for a hot shower and my own bed. Tyler ducked into the house while John and I unloaded the trunk and stored the camping gear back where it belonged. He’d slept for most of the trip back, and I could tell something was bothering him.
After having dinner with my parents, John excused himself to try and get some sleep. It had been a pretty full on couple of days, but not enough to wipe him out. After a few minutes, I decided to go and check on him. I didn’t want him getting sick or something.
When I got to my room, I was surprised to find him packing his stuff into his bag.
“Hey, what’s going on?” He clearly hadn’t expected me to come upstairs and my voice made him jump even though I hadn’t spoken particularly loudly.
“I’m heading back to my dorm.” I moved into my room, closing the door behind me. When I reached up to touch his shoulder, he flinched away from me.
“Woah. Why?”
“Look, I can’t play second best. I really like you, but it’s very clear that your heart lies elsewhere.”
“John, babe. I have no idea what you’re talking about here.” I put my hand on his arm, trying to get him to turn and face me. Eventually he did, sinking onto the edge of my bed.
“Look, we’ve been having fun, right?” I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. “Neither of us expected anything serious, and while I thought I might have been falling for you, the past few days have made me realize you could never feel the same way about me.”
“W-w-what?”
When John looked up at me, meeting my eyes with his gorgeous green ones, there was no sadness in them. There was only what I could describe as an acceptance of some sort. It confused the hell out of me.
“I know you tell everyone he’s your best friend, but it’s obvious to everyone who spends any kind of time with the two of you that you’re both head over heels for the other.”
I couldn’t help it, but I burst out laughing.
“Me and Charlie? No way. You’ve got it all wrong, believe me.”
“See, you say that, and I think on the surface that you believe it, but deep down… I’m a photographer. I literally look at details of the things around me all the time, and there’s no mistaking there’s something going on between the two of you. It’s just taking both of you some time to realize it; although, I think Charlie might be there already. He’s crazy jealous of me.” A snort escaped me before I could stop it. “I’m serious. Whenever we were together the past few days, he either turned his back, walked away, or interrupted us. You may see him as your best friend, but he’s in love with you. And I can’t compete with that.”
Standing back up, John finished packing his stuff, telling me he had a train booked in an hour. Knowing I wasn’t going to change his mind, I offered him a ride to the station, but he refused saying he’d book an uber.
Rather than watch him leave, I went out into the garden and sat on the swing. I’d never had a breakup, so I had nothing to compare it to, but I didn’t feel as sad as I expected to. In the movies, girls lay in their beds for days on end with messy hair and mascara running down their faces until their friends ran an intervention. Yeah, I was sad that John had broken up with me, but it felt like I was losing a friend more than a boyfriend. Even if the reasoning was ludicrous. There was no way on Earth Charlie Gillespie, the guy all the girls wanted, was in love with me. Sure, I knew he loved me – we were best friends, but that was it.
As the sun set around me, I finally made my way inside. I could hear the TV playing in the lounge, but didn’t feel like being pitied by my family, so I made my way up to my bedroom. When I was there, it felt empty without John’s big, solid frame. He’d only been here two days, but he’d made an impression on my space.
Not sure what to do with myself, I sat on my bed, hearing a crinkle. There was an envelope on my pillow.
I’m sorry it ended like this, but you need to know and understand that I don’t hate you – just in case you were wondering. Yeah, I’m upset, but I’m a big boy and I’ll get over it, and when I do, I hope we can still be friends. I honestly love spending time with you, and meeting your family was great.
I know you didn’t believe me when I told you about Charlie, but I hope these prove it to you.
See you soon, John.
Inside the envelopes were a couple of polaroid photos. I’d forgotten he’d brought his along with his big one. We’d all taken turns taking silly shots of one another, shaking them as they developed around the campfire we’d had.
The first was me holding Charlie’s guitar. I was clearly singing, looking at him, but there was something in the way I looked at my best friend. A softness to my face that could only be interpreted as affection – unsurprising, considering how much he meant to me, how much we meant to one another.
The second, was after our first jump at the cliffs. We were walking toward the camera, arms wrapped around one another, laughing. If it was anyone else, I would say it was quite an intimate photo, but it was me and Charlie. We were always like that, always touching, always laughing.
Putting the letter and photos on my desk, I lay back on my bed. I was confused as hell and didn’t know what to think or who to talk to.
As if summoned, my phone began to ring, Lena’s name flashing on the screen. When I answered, she didn’t bother with a greeting.
“So, when are you and pretty boy getting it on?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“John text me, told me what happened, said you might need someone to talk to. He finally saw what I saw.”
“And what did you see?”
“You and Charlie boy. All the feels.”
“Lena, there are no feels. We’re friends, best friends.”
“Honey, I know you’re a bit blind to the fact that that boy is crazy in love with you, probably has been for years, and you…”
“I what?”
“You look at him like he hung the moon. I don’t look at my best friend like that. I know it’s a lot to take in, but think about it, logically. Try to look at your relationship the way an outsider would, then tell me you’re not gonna end up ridiculously happy, living in some gorgeous apartment somewhere, surrounded by gorgeous babies.”
“And what if I come to the realization he’s just my friend?”
“Then I would say you’re blind as fuck. Look, I gotta go, my nanna’s lethal at dominoes, so I gotta make sure she doesn’t cheat. I’ll see you in a few days.” Lena ended the call. I was no clearer on the situation I had been before we’d spoken, but I least I had something to do.
Could everyone be right, and I was wrong? I loved Charlie, adored him, but I wasn’t in love with him. We were friends, the best, and that was all. Wasn’t it? I was pretty sure it was for me.
I needed air. I made my way back downstairs, grabbing my car keys from the side unit and went outside. It was late, but maybe a drive would help. As I unlocked my car, I heard my name being called. Turning, I saw Charlie jogging over to me.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“I just need to clear my head.”
“Where’s the big man.” Something flashed in his eyes as he asked about John. I tried not to read too much into it, but if I didn’t know better, it looked like jealousy. I gave myself a mental slap around the back of the head for projecting John and Lena’s words onto myself.
“He left. Went back to campus. We’re over.” Immediately, Charlie’s arms were wrapped around me and I was pulled in tight against his chest. My senses were overwhelmed by the feel of him, the sound of his heartbeat, and the scent of him. It was too much and I pulled away.
“Are you okay? I know you liked him.”
“Yeah, I’m good. It wasn’t that serious.”
“Serious enough to sleep with him.” An undertone of something I couldn’t work  out laced his voice.
“Charles. I wasn’t a virgin when I met John. I may not have had any serious relationships, or relationships in any capacity, but I wasn’t innocent. Just the way you’re not, so don’t pull that bullshit with me.”
Boys at high school may have been wary of Charlie, but he wasn’t around at college when I discovered meaningless one night stands weren’t for me.
“I’m sorry. I just don’t want to see you hurting.”
“I’m not. Maybe I should be more upset, but I can’t fake it.”
“You sound upset.” I looked up at him, stepping back slightly to move closer to my car. “I don’t like it when you’re upset, even when you don’t think you are, like that time when-”
“Look, I’m not here for a trip down memory lane. I want to go for a drive. Talk tomorrow?”
“Sure.” He turned to walk away an I pulled open the driver’s side door. Before I could sink into the seat, I was spun around. Charlie had hold of my wrist in one hand, but it was a gentle hold. He slammed the door and walked toward me. Nerves took over me and I back away from him, my back hitting the car behind me.
When he let go of my wrist, he placed his hands either side of me, resting against the cool metal of my car. Swallowing, I locked eyes with him, feeling very unsure of myself. I opened my mouth to ask him what was happening but didn’t manage the words before he crashed his lips against mine.
.
.
.
.
.
Tagging: 
@dream-a-little-bigger-x @calamitykaty @crybabyddl @morganayennefertyrell​ @lovesanimals​ @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve @echocharm17618 @kinda-really-lost @n0wornever @all-in-fangirl @kcd15 @charliesmountains @amazinggracy @happinessinthedarkesttimes @xplrreylo @5sosmukefan
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Text
Truth and Awakenings Ch. 5
Summary: A Jemily rewrite of certain scenes in 14x15-15x03, with a few additional scenes :)
Chapter summary: JJ wakes up and tells Emily she’s in love with her.
Read on AO3
Tagging: @binariesarebullshit @bridget19 @jemilyisms
Emily’s eyes focused on one tiny spot on the white tiled floor. She was crouching forward a little, as she chewed on her thumbnail and impatiently tapped her foot. She felt a little tired after staying at the hospital for almost more than half of the day, but she wanted to stay awake for her friend.
“Emily,” Will called out in the hallway, making her head snap towards his direction. “She’s awake. She wants to see you.”
Emily stood up, wiping her somewhat sweaty palms on her slacks. “Is she ok?”
Will smiled, “Why don’t you go see for yourself? I gotta go pick up the boys.” He saw Emily staring off into space and placed a hand on her arm. “I really think you should go see her, Emily. You’re one of the most important people in her life.”
The woman was taken aback by that statement coming from Will. JJ’s husband. That means nothing, right? Emily is one of JJ’s best friends, of course, he would say that. She hesitantly nodded and Will patted her on the shoulder before leaving.
Emily took a deep breath and shook her head to drive her nerves away. She slowly made her way towards JJ’s hospital room and her eyes searched for the blonde.
JJ saw her and gave a smile. “Hey, you.”
Emily softly smiled back, “Hey.” It faded shortly once she examined JJ’s body resting on the bed. Her eyes were filled with concern, “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
“JJ…” her boss warned, knowing that she was lying. That response always meant, 'I don't want to talk about right now. I can handle myself.' Emily was very familiar with that phrase.
“Emily, I’m fine. Really,” JJ told her. Emily raised an eyebrow at her, clearly not buying it. “Ok,” the blonde finally said. “I will admit it kinda hurts when I move a little.”
Emily awkwardly pointed at the door. “I should go and let you get some rest.”
“No. No, not yet.” JJ sighed happily, staring up at her with love in her eyes. “I’m glad you’re here. I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” The grey-haired woman slightly smiled and her eyes scanned the room as she bit her lip in worry. She lifted a hand before JJ stopped her, knowing she was going to bite her fingernails, and felt the blonde’s hand easily slip into hers.
“I should’ve found you sooner. I shouldn't have made us split up…” Emily started apologizing.
JJ shook her head, “Hey, it’s fine. I just happened to have found Lynch and his daughter when we did. I’m not blaming you for any of this and neither should you.” She knew Emily always put herself down for risking other people’s lives, and would rather put her own life on the line just save them. JJ needed to make Emily understand that she knew the other woman didn’t intend to put her in danger.
Emily blinked and shook her head. She almost didn’t believe her best friend would ever forgive her. “But this is my responsibility and- and you got hurt.”
“Emily-”
“You flatlined for a few seconds. I was there when they-”
“Emily,” JJ cut her off, her face softening afterwards. “Look at me.”
Emily finally put her attention back to the blonde and began to relax her shoulders, brushing her thumb over JJ’s hand. “You could’ve died, if I didn’t make it on time.”
“But you did make it on time.” A smile slowly made its way to JJ’s face, “You saved my life, Emily. You always did.”
Emily shrugged, “I don’t know what I’d do, if I didn’t.”
JJ simply nodded. Even the blonde wouldn’t know what to do with herself, if Emily was hurt on the job, either. JJ understood what Emily meant because she would’ve done the same and risk her own life for her.
Then, she remembered why she told Will she wanted to see Emily alone. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Emily froze for a second, as questions began to run through her head. She’s not quitting, is she? I understand if she does, I mean, she nearly died and-
She felt a gentle tug at her hand and glanced down. JJ had seen Emily lost somewhere in her thoughts again, so she decided to bring her back down to earth, rubbing the older woman’s thumb. Emily brought her comfort earlier, so it was her turn to offer it to her, feeling Emily’s hand squeeze hers.
JJ’s tongue darted out at the corner of her mouth before taking a shaky breath. “Will and I divorced two years ago.”
Emily’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh my god. JJ, I don’t- I’m so sorry. Did something happen?” she stuttered. Part of her hoped that was a sign that she could finally be with JJ, but the other part of her was confused as to why. She had no involvement in destroying their marriage and they didn’t even look like they were having any issues (to her and everyone else, at least), so why was she still freaking out?
“Kind of,” JJ sighed and Emily brought her focus back to her. “I realized that I’ve been in love with you. For a really long time.”
Emily’s body froze again. She’s in love with me? JJ… is in love with me? I don’t understand. Why?
The blonde’s eyes widened in panic. She must’ve misheard her earlier, then. “I’m sorry, Emily. I just thought that-”
“No, no, no, no!” Emily exclaimed too quickly before clearing her throat, cheeks flushing a light pink. “I mean, uh…”
JJ shook her head, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “Look, I know you’re with Andrew but-”
“I’m not with him anymore,” she said. “We broke up. It’s over.”
Upon hearing this news, JJ smiled in relief.
“Now, what made you realize you had feelings for me?” Emily grinned, as she dragged a chair nearby to sit next to her, choosing not to leave the room. She rested her chin in her palm and looked at the younger agent with adoration.
JJ let out a genuine laugh, feeling glad that her secret was out. “Well, at first I thought it was this little crush because you were… so strong and amazingly stunning, and confident.” She shrugged with a little head shake, “And because of that, you seemed way out of my league, so, you know, I tried ignoring it for a while.”
Emily was surprised that JJ found her almost hard to get, especially when she was thinking the same about the blonde. “Was I really that intimidating?” she asked with a chuckle.
“Maybe, yeah,” JJ giggled, finding that ridiculous now. “Well, I thought it was kinda hot, so…”
Emily just smiled and let her continue, ignoring the small blush appearing on her cheeks at the compliment.
JJ looked down and interlocked their fingers together. “I guess, after a while, I saw how you tried making me feel like I was important. That I was valid. No one’s ever made me feel that way before. You never forced me to change. You always made it comfortable for me to be myself and never judged me.”
“Then, there was that time I was tortured, and I thought of you coming to my rescue." She shook her head and sighed for a second, "I realized my mind always went to you and nobody else. I should’ve known that sooner, but it took me a while to know about these feelings I had for you.”
It was true. JJ didn’t know she had all these signs right in front of her. All those years, she had dismissed those as little ‘coincidences’ or merely someone just helping a friend out. It was way deeper than that. Emily cared for her in a way no one else in her life had, and was willing to lay down her life to save JJ’s.
JJ glanced back up to meet Emily’s eyes and gave a warm smile. “You’re the first person I’ve ever truly loved. I loved Will, too, but it was never as much as I loved you. I, uh- that’s why we decided to divorce. It gave me time to explore my feelings about you and now, I feel sure that I’m in love with you, Emily.”
“Really?”
JJ nodded, tears forming in her own eyes, “Yes. God, I love you so much, Emily.”
“I love you, too, JJ,” Emily whispered with watery eyes.
The two women smiled at each other, finally feeling the weight lift off their shoulders from professing their love for one another. After almost 14 years of yearning, they were now able to be together.
Emily sighed and pressed a kiss against JJ’s forehead. The blonde frowned, making Emily laugh.
“Why didn’t you kiss me?” JJ pouted even more and tilted her head to the side. Emily thought it was adorable.
“Because I don’t wanna give the medical staff a hard time, if the monitor goes off,” she winked, earning a playful slap on the arm.
JJ rolled her eyes and shook her head at her remark. “What a charmer.”
“Hey, you said you were attracted to my confidence, so you’re gonna have to deal with it,” the grey-haired woman smirked.
“Shut up,” JJ blushed and licked her lips. “Um, Emily. I forgot to tell you, but Will and Spencer actually knew about the whole…” she awkwardly gestured with her hands, “me being in love with you thing.”
Emily needed a moment to register those words. That explains why Will didn’t seem mad at her or anything like that, but wait. “Spence knew about this?”
“Long story,” the blonde answered, placing a hand on Emily’s arm. “I’ll tell you sometime after I get out.”
“Well, Dave knew about me having a thing for you, so…” Emily quietly confessed.
“So, do you think they were waiting for us to get together?” JJ asked, a little amused and surprised.
Emily shrugged, “Probably. For a couple of profilers, we really are blind.”
JJ laughed, and her body was filled with warmth and giddiness when the older woman kissed her hand. Emily frowned at the small object on JJ’s finger. Speaking of profiling… “What about your wedding ring?”
“Oh,” JJ gave a sheepish smile. “I totally forgot about it. Whoops.”
She toyed with the ring, shyly looking at it before waving her hand. “I, um, kept it on because I didn’t want the team throwing me questions about my divorce. I already had enough thrown at me when I was a liaison.” Then, she leaned in closer. “Also because I didn’t want some unsub or detective thinking they have a chance and try to hit on me,” she winked.
Emily chuckled in amusement. “Wow.”
“I’m telling you, the ring works every time.”
Emily playfully shook her head and stared at the ring on JJ’s finger. While she wasn't the one married to the younger woman, she smiled at the thought of sharing her life with JJ. But that seemed too soon to think about.
“What’s with the smile?” JJ asked, forming one of her own.
“Nothing,” Emily played off with a wave of a hand.
JJ tucked a piece of hair behind Emily’s ear and kissed her knuckles. “Emily,” she quietly said. “I know I’m in a tough situation right now, but… how about I take you out on a date after this?”
Blushing at the small gesture, Emily answered with a smile. “I would love that.”
JJ felt a sense of relief when she accepted the invitation. “Does this make us a couple now?” she wondered where their relationship stood at this point.
Emily opened her mouth, blinking as she carefully chose her words. Sure, they had just confessed their love right now, but she decided she wanted to take things slow with JJ. “Well, we’ll see how things go before we think about putting labels on whatever this is,” she offered as a compromise.
“Ok,” JJ nodded in agreement and beamed at her. “I love you, you know that?”
“I love you, too.”
After a few seconds, JJ nudged Emily’s arm, “Hey. Once I get discharged, do you think-”
“Nope! No, absolutely not. You are not working under those conditions,” Emily warned, shaking her head.
“But Emily…” JJ stressed each syllable of her name, pouting. She hoped this and her irresistible baby blues would work on the grey-haired woman.
“That’s a no, Agent Jareau,” she said with a serious look in her eyes, though, she had to mentally restrain herself from giving in.
JJ playfully whined even more, “Emily, I thought you loved me!”
“That gives you no excuse to be out in the field right now," Emily shook her head. God, JJ was even more stubborn about her well-being than she thought.
"Fine,” JJ crossed her arms over her chest and pretended to sulk, like a child not getting their favorite candy.
“You’re so cute,” Emily smiled and kissed her nose.
JJ took this as an opportunity to snake a hand behind Emily’s neck, bringing her head closer. The softness JJ felt against her lips made her melt instantly and she wanted to continue kissing her longer. She felt herself nearly getting dizzy from it and thought she was going to faint soon, but she didn’t care. JJ had been waiting years to do this. She just didn’t expect Emily to be that good of a kisser.
They both heard a rapid beeping and Emily nearly jumped out of her chair. Dr. Hsu came rushing in and laughed after she got the EKG monitor back to normal.
“Oh, I knew you two were a couple,” she said, seeing the flustered women, before leaving the room. “Make sure you take it easy. You almost had us worried for a second.”
“I told you,” Emily smirked at JJ, now noticing the effect she had on the blonde.
JJ lifted a shoulder and innocently smiled. “I couldn’t help myself.”
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explosionshark · 4 years
Note
47. Luz/Amity, for the dialogue prompts
s/o to the anon who sent the same prompt!
47. “Why are you whispering?” Luz hollered.
“I’m not,” Amity shouted back. “You were standing too close to the explosion spell you were trying. I think you hurt your ears.”
“Oh,” said Luz gravely, brows furrowing. Then, “What?”
“I’m taking you to the Nurse’s Office,” Amity explained, gesturing with enough vigor to make the abomination carrying Luz quaver for a terrifying split-second. Focus, Blight.
“I don’t need a new purse,” Luz said. “I keep everything in my backpack. But I’ll go with you! I can help you pick one out! Girl’s night!”
Amity opened her mouth to reply before catching herself and clamping her jaw shut. It was, apparently, a futile effort to explain. And it wasn’t like Luz was freaking out, demanding answers. She looked a little dazed, but otherwise surprisingly content to be ferried across campus in the arms of one of Amity’s abominations.
For the first time since choosing her track, Amity found herself truly frustrated with the rigidity of the coven system. Healing magic had never interested her before, but if she’d known a few spells they wouldn’t even have to be doing this at all.
But wasn’t that exactly what got them here? Luz, over-eager and so ridiculously reckless, couldn’t settle on a single track, had to try everything. Had to experiment with dangerous combinations of elemental magic in the old greenhouse after class.
And Amity, who was apparently afflicted with some kind of transmogrification curse that turned her brain (and her knees) into pudding whenever Luz was around, didn’t do anything to stop her. Not really. She’d discouraged Luz, called it a bad idea, but she should have known that wouldn’t be enough to dissuade someone as stubborn as Luz Noceda.
“Hey,” Luz called from her perch in the abomination’s arms. “Amity!”
“What, Luz?” Amity snapped, immediately sorry for it when Luz flinches at her tone. She keeps doing that. She can never seem to just act normal around Luz. Always too harsh or too awkward, babbling like a total loser.
“You mad at me?” Luz asks, a little quieter this time. That’s probably a good sign, right? “Also, is anyone gonna turn that alarm off? Is this a fire drill?”
Amity winces. Why did they build the nurse’s office so far from the center of everything in a school where students learned how to start magical fires and summon demonic constructs?
“I’m... frustrated,” Amity says, letting loose a deep breath. It’s not as difficult as she thought it’d be, to be honest. Luz frowns a little, but doesn’t interrupt her, so Amity goes on. “You scared me. I thought you might be really hurt, and I didn’t do anything to stop you from putting yourself in danger.”
Luz has the decency to look a little embarrassed at this. “You told me not to. And it’s okay. I’m totally fine!”
At this Luz tries to demonstrate her fineness by hopping free of the abomination’s grip, succeeding only in nearly plummeting onto the floor. Only Amity’s quick reflexes and an on-the-fly reconfiguration of the abomination’s form keep her from face-planting. 
“Luz!” Amity barks, arms shaking from adrenaline and the strain of catching Luz’s upper body. The abomination droops into a puddle beneath them, Luz’s legs sinking slowly to the floor.
“Okay,” Luz says calmly. “That was my bad. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“C’mon,” Amity sighs, heaving Luz’s arm over her shoulder and half-dragging her toward’s the nurse’s office. She putts a little extra air into her breathing, hoping that her red face comes off as exertion and not... whatever this is. “We’re almost there.”
“It wouldn’t be your fault, y’know,” Luz pipes up after a moment, a little shaky still but steadier on her legs than she’d been when Amity found her in the greenhouse, covered in dust and shredded plant matter, “if I got hurt doing something dumb. I know I can be a little reckless. That’s not on you.”
A little reckless is the understatement of the year.
Monumentally reckless. Brash, foolhardy, stubborn, naive, frustrating, impulsive.... sweet. Cute. Thoughtful, trying to reassure Amity even when she was barely able to stay upright.
The worst part of this entire stupid crush was the way Amity couldn’t even stay mad when she had a good reason to anymore.
“Just try not to get hurt again, please?” Amity mumbles, ducking her head to hide her increased blush. “I know I’m not, like, your ‘fun’ friend and maybe it seems like I’m trying to boss you around, but I’m a good witch, okay? And if I say something is dangerous and you shouldn’t do it, I just want you to be safe. I’m not trying to stop you from learning magic.”
“You’re tons of fun!” Luz protests, sounding genuinely offended. “And I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I just got carried away. I know you’re a good witch -- I guess I just... I’m impatient to catch up, okay? If I could do even half the stuff you can--”
“Luz,” Amity interrupts, gently as she knows how, swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat. Her voice sounds weird over the thunderous rush of blood in her ears. “I’ve been training in magic my whole life. You’ve been here for a couple weeks. And you’re not even a witch! Everything you do is amazing.”
Amity cuts herself off, pausing outside the door to the nurse’s office. Luz sways gently in her arms, uncharacteristically silent, face tilted towards the floor. 
“Are... you okay?” Amity asks, trying to gently detangle herself from Luz’s spidermonkeylike grip on her shoulders. 
“You think I’m amazing?” Luz asks, finally looking up, face drawn in wonder.
Amity feels that familiar rush of warmth over her whole body, the fluttery swoop of butterflies in her stomach, that sensation of the ground dropping out from her feet. But she keeps her legs straight, refuses to let herself look away from Luz’s open, trusting face.”Yeah, Luz.”
“Oh,” Luz exhales and then grins, brilliant and brighter than any light spell Amity’s ever seen. “Cool.”
“I also think you might have a concussion,” Amity murmurs, partly to cut the tension and partly because Luz can’t seem to focus her eyes fully for longer than a few seconds. “We should probably get you inside.”
“Oh, what?” Luz’s mouth crumples funnily and twists into a giddy sort of grin. She looks away and then back, pushing a hand through her messy brown hair. “No one’s ever called me.... I mean. Hey. Thanks for getting me here in one piece, sugar muffin.”
“Sugar m--” Amity chokes. “I didn’t-- Concussion, I think you have a concussion.” 
“Jeez, okay, Amity, I get it,” Luz smirks and leans in, pressing a fleeting kiss to Amity’s flaming cheek. Then she stomps precariously toward’s the door to the nurse’s office, missing the knob on her first swipe and struggling weakly with it until Amity shakes herself and steps forward to let them in herself.
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