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thebiggerbear · 5 months

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CJ Braxton x Reader - Prompt Response - "I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Summary: You had only meant to call once, remaining anonymous while feeling out the whole helpline thing for yourself. Now, you talk to CJ every Friday night around the same time. When you don't call one Friday, CJ is worried and comes looking for you which presents its own host of problems.

Pairing: CJ Braxton x Female!Reader; CJ Braxton x College Student!Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I initially wasn't going to write anything for CJ but this idea popped into my head for this prompt and I just had to write it. And I absolutely fell in love with the dynamic between CJ and the reader (and had so much fun with this). Please forgive any timeline tomfoolery or anything time wise that makes you go "huh?"; I was trying to make this work throughout the season from CJ's entry into the show (and his conversation with Jen about the helpline) to the end.

I wasn't much of a Dawson's Creek person back in the day (I still haven't seen seasons 2-5), so I hope this came out alright. I tried to keep it as 2000-ish as possible. I remember back in the day not everyone had a cell phone like Dawson, Audrey, and Pacey (though a lot of people were getting them moving into the beginning of the decade) so that rule kind of applied here so to speak.

This is meant to take place during s6 before Jen joins The Stand.

Warnings: implied sex; panic attacks; implied anxiety

Word Count: 15k+

Please do not do any of the above. Thank you for your understanding.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

CJ Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

You glanced at the clock, seeing it was 6:59. One more minute and you’d pick up the phone as you did every Friday night and make the call you always did. Your nerves thrummed in anticipation as you stared down the clock, willing the numbers to turn.

Eventually, you got your wish and as soon as the 7 appeared on the clock face you picked up the phone, dialing the number you now knew by heart. After a few rings, the call finally connected.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his voice. “Hey.”

“There she is.” You could hear his own smile in his tone as he recognized you. “How are you, Jo?”

You winced at the fake name you had given him. At the time, you had quickly scrambled and chose the first name that came to mind. Granted, Joey Potter was in the same school as you so you weren’t too worried about him finding out about either of you seeing as he was from Boston Bay. But as you had talked with him more and more, you really wished you hadn’t given him any name but your own. Even if you were beyond terrified; you felt bad for lying to him.

Why should it matter, right? He was a volunteer counselor for a teen helpline at another college. Why would you care what this one person thought out of you?

Well, unbeknownst to him, you had seen him once and you knew who he was. Thanks to Joey and Audrey’s friendship with Jen, you had come to hear quite a bit about the cute tall guy whose voice made your heart rate speed up way too fast. Jen had even invited him out to a house party and that was when you saw him for the first time. Your nerves got to you and you bounced before one of your friends could make an introduction. Partly because you were afraid he would recognize you from your voice and immediately put a face to the name and possibly be disappointed or worse: he’d know you lied to him. So you avoided him at all costs — well, in person.

It wasn’t like you had planned for this to happen, where you would call a helpline weekly just to speak to a certain boy. That’s not how this started at all.

When you got to Worthington, you were homesick, overwhelmed, and overall terrified. While you eventually eased into the college student lifestyle and Boston was now home, you never really got past the overwhelmed feeling, and terrified had dialed down to being anxious all the time: anxious that you would mess up, anxious that you would fail, anxious that your future wouldn’t turn out the way you planned — all of it. There were days you felt like you were just scraping by, barely making a passing grade (though your final grade usually proved you wrong), and you felt like you were some sort of imposter who was soon to be found out and didn’t really belong. Meeting Joey and her roommate, Audrey Liddell, who lived down the hall from you, helped some, and their introducing you to their group of friends helped even more. But there were still times that you just felt…tightly wound and about to snap. As if you had too many balls in the air and you were about to trip, and all the balls would fall to the ground.

So when Jen mentioned to the group about some guy wanting her to join a teen helpline for the college, you quietly paid attention. She laughed it off — his approach, not the helpline — and she didn’t think she would be right for it so that was that. While everyone else began to talk and laugh about another topic, the wheels in your head slowly started to turn inside your head. A helpline where you could remain anonymous and talk to someone who would listen and could possibly even help. You knew your school most likely had one of those but you wouldn’t even dream of risking it. But a helpline elsewhere where you could talk to someone who maybe understood how you were feeling most of the time, maybe experienced similar things, and you were able to stay anonymous? That you could look into.

After much back and forth in your mind over it, you took the leap and made the call one Friday night after a particularly rough week. You really didn’t think anyone would pick up, it was close to 7:00 and most college kids were either out or getting ready to go out…right?

Before you could answer your own question to yourself, the line connected.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You did what any other person would do; you promptly hung up. You stared at your phone in terror. Someone had picked up. A guy. Just when you were convincing yourself that this was stupid and you needed to take a chill pill and deal.

You argued with yourself in your head for about another minute, hemming and hawing over it all. Wasn’t the whole point of you calling to try to do something about how you’d been feeling? You supposed you could always see a therapist here in town but that could be costly, even with insurance. You also had no desire to tell your parents because they would respond the same way they did the last time you tried to allude to how overwhelmed you were when you had returned home for the summer.

“You should be grateful you got into such a great school, Y/N. Most people would kill to be in your position, going after their degree. You don’t see your classmates moping about, do you? Just because they have classes and homework,” your mother had made sure to prick you with that pin of guilt. “Make the best of it.”

“You know what I think? I think you need to get yourself some friends and then you’ll stop focusing on this so much. If you have nothing to fill your time, of course your mind is going to obsess over what you’re viewing as negative. Try to join a club or a social group. They have keggers all the time. I remember back when I was in college. It was party city every weekend. Maybe let loose a little one of these Saturday nights and things will start to get better. And who knows? Maybe you’ll even make some friends.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you mumbled, tossing your overeasy egg onto its side with your fork, your eyes trained on your plate. You knew he was just trying to help — they both were — but their attitude seemed to imply that you could simply hit an off switch somewhere and you’d stop feeling so overwhelmed. If only.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to take their advice. You had gone to some frat party and it had been one of the worst experiences of your life. You weren’t a big drinker and you weren’t really a party person in general. You didn’t really recognize anyone from your classes or your dorm and the music was so loud, it seemed like a ridiculous notion to try to approach someone and start a conversation. Not something you were very good at anyway. You had no idea how to play the drinking games you saw, other than what you’d seen on TV, and you didn’t want to do something to mess up anyone’s scores if you didn’t do it right. Then some hulk of a guy accidentally knocked into you, deluging you in beer, and he was so drunk, he didn’t even apologize, just kept on going. After about an hour (and the unintended beer bath), you decided to call it quits.

That night, you had gone back to your dorm room which was blissfully empty, taken a hot shower, and then sobbed into your pillow. So much so that when a drunken Audrey accidentally stumbled into your room, she saw your tear-stained face when your head snapped up and immediately asked what was wrong and why you were crying in her room of all things. Despite the back and forth over whose room it actually was and her drunken state along with the slurring of her words, you two actually kind of hit it off. Before long she had you laughing, something you felt like you hadn’t done in some time. She passed out in your roommate’s bed, much to your roommate’s chagrin, but when Audrey’s boyfriend and roommate came to get her the next morning, you figured that had been it. Your one social interaction with someone who didn’t look at you as an unwanted intruder every single day (like your roommate) or like you were some loner weirdo (like most of your classmates). You knew that Audrey would probably either ignore you the next time she ran into you or she wouldn’t remember you at all.

Boy, had you been wrong. The day after her hangover, she had been knocking on your door, smiling and telling you that you were going out with her for the night. Just like that. She introduced you to her roommate, Joey, and their group of friends. You had been inducted into their group of friends, just like that.

Eventually, Jen mentioned the helpline that one night and now here you were, staring at the phone as if it was about to come to life and do a dance or something. You waited a few more minutes, deciding you’d try again and hopefully get someone else. There couldn’t be only one person answering phones at a helpline, could there? That would make for some backed up phone traffic and not a good look for a helpline at all. Maybe you’d be lucky and the guy would have already had another caller he was speaking to so another counselor would have to pick up.

When the clock turned to 7:11, you slowly picked up the phone, took a deep breath, and dialed the number again. You began to jiggle your leg as you waited for the line to connect.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

Oh crap. You froze.

“Hello?”

What did you do? You wanted to hang the phone up again but you were unable to.

“Hello?” He asked again.

No. You were going to be a mature adult about this and answer him. Just as soon as you could breathe. You covered the mouthpiece with your hand and exhaled a breath.

“Look, if you’re in trouble or can’t talk, just hit a button. Any button will work.” A minute passed while you were trying to breathe, getting ready to talk. “If you don’t have a crisis and you’re not calling to speak to someone here, then I think you should hang up and let other people who need us call in. No use in tying up the phone lines.”

Another minute passed. You really were trying your hardest to get words out but your chest was tight and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your heart was racing yet you were frozen. This happened sometimes but usually you were by yourself, not with someone waiting for you to speak on the other end of the phone line. It also happened a couple of times while you were out with your friends, but usually you hid out in a bathroom stall until it passed and then you left to go back to your dorm with the excuse of a test the next day or a project due, whatever you could come up with on the fly. You didn’t understand why it was happening to you right now, though.

“Alright, I’m going to hang up now.”

You smashed a key on your phone so fast that you heard a loud annoying sound in your ear. Immediately, the guy’s tone changed.

“Okay, I’m here. If you’re in trouble, hit the key again. If you’re not but can’t talk at the moment, don’t hit it.”

You didn’t hit any more keys and gasped for air that just wasn’t coming.

“Good. I’m glad you’re okay. Is someone in the room with you and that’s why you can’t talk? If so, hit the key again.”

You moved over to your bed and laid down. That was the fastest way to get your body to relax when you had the option you’d found out.

“Okay, so you’re alone but you can’t talk but you’re not in trouble. Can you just try to say one word or make a sound so I know you’re really okay?”

You removed your hand from the mouthpiece. “T-Trying,” you rasped out. Holy crap, this was a bad episode you were having. You were completely mortified. Perhaps you really should hang up. You were worried, though, that now he might notify someone or think you really were prank calling the helpline. Either way, you were bound to get in trouble and even more embarrassed, and that just made your chest tighter.

“Okay. That’s good. I’ll take that. Do you have asthma or something similar?”

Great. That’s how bad you’d sounded; he thought you might actually have some sort of breathing issue. Well, technically, you were struggling to breathe right now so it made sense that he would think that but if he only knew the actual answer was something that was beyond ridiculous and couldn’t be explained away as something as serious as asthma.

“No,” you whispered, rubbing at the spot in your chest where a mix of discomfort and a heavy-rock-feeling sat.

“And you’re sure you don’t need to go to the hospital to get checked out?” He sounded concerned now.

“No,” you repeated, staring up at your ceiling, your vision blurring with building tears. All you wanted to do was give this helpline thing a shot since nothing else seemed to be working, and here you had gone and made it so much worse. On top of that, you were frustrated that you couldn’t even do something as simple as answer a person when they said hello on a phone call that you made to them. What was wrong with you?

“Okay. That’s good. Why don’t I talk for a minute so you can relax?” A tear slipped down your cheek when you realized he must have heard your heavy exhales over the phone. “Like I said before, my name is CJ. I’ve been with the helpline for a while now. I’m here four days a week. I try to schedule shifts around my classes and pick up a few extra when I’m able. Before you called, I was doing some reading for my Philosophy class. It’s not my major but I had to take another humanities course. It was that or religion so…philosophy it was.”

You closed your eyes and focused on his voice. It was actually very soothing and it was helping.

“Between you and me, I’m not the best student.” Your eyes opened and you stared at the ceiling, listening intently. “I mean, I do okay in terms of grades, but I’m not exactly a frequent flier on the Dean’s list.” He chuckled and after a moment, he asked, “How about you?”

You swallowed, feeling the slightest bit of easing up on your chest, almost if it was allowing the words through. “I do okay.” You didn’t sound as raspy as before but you still had a faint wheeze at the end. You were coming out of this, slowly but surely.

“That’s good. College sure isn’t easy, by any means. When midterms roll around, I always get a little more stressed. I usually have to blow off some steam to keep it all balanced, you know? Or else I get easily overwhelmed. I have to remind myself to take it one class at a time, one day at a time. But easier said than done sometimes, right?”

“Right.” You knew what he was doing but since it seemed to be helping, you played along. He was getting to the heart of the issue while also giving you time to come back down. You’d only been on the phone with him for close to ten minutes and already you felt much better than you had when the call started.

“How are you feeling? Any better?”

“A little.”

“Good.” He sounded genuinely pleased. “Is my being the one to talk helping any?”

“Actually…yeah,” you breathed out.

“Does this happen a lot?”

You bit at your lip, not really wanting to admit it, but you had called for this very reason, hadn’t you? “Yeah.”

“Around midterms or anytime?”

“Anytime.”

“Even when you’re not in school?”

“Sometimes,” you whispered. “But mostly when I’m here.”

“So school related then?”

“Kind of.”

He was quiet for a moment and you wondered if you had said something wrong or if he was looking instructions up in a pamphlet or something for this sort of thing.

“Hey, did you see Phantom Menace when it came out last year?”

That caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected to switch gears so quickly. “Um, no?”

“You’re not a Star Wars fan, I take it?”

He didn’t sound disappointed so you chalked that up to being a good thing. Most guys you’d met either were completely into Star Wars or weren’t into it at all. “I don’t know if I’d call myself a fan but I’ve seen the original movies.”

“Uh oh, you’re not one of those prequel snobs, are you?” He teased.

“No? I just saw the trailer and I wasn’t interested.”

“Well, a buddy of mine and I went to see it when it came out. The theater was packed. I’m talking bursting at the seams.” A small smile started to creep onto your face at his energy. “And when the lights went down and the opening credits started rolling and the music started up, everyone was cheering and clapping. It was pretty awesome. My buddy ended up loving it. He’s the biggest Star Wars fan you’ve ever met.” A moment later he asked, “So besides anything in a galaxy, far far away, have you seen any other movies that came out?”

“I went to see The Green Mile. My, uh, my dad is a big Tom Hanks fan and a Stephen King fan so he really wanted to go.”

“And you?”

“I liked it. Though it was sad.”

“I didn’t see it yet but I got the feeling that it was going to be a bit of a heavy one.”

“It was, but it was worth it.” You noticed then that you were talking to him normally, you were breathing normally, your chest was still a little tight but that was to be expected, and you were sitting up with your back to the wall. You had gotten through your latest episode and this CJ had helped. Perhaps there was something to this helpline thing after all.

“I’m definitely going to check it out then. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Almost as if he had heard your thoughts, he then said, “You sound a lot better than earlier. Hopefully, you’re feeling better, too?”

“Um, yeah.” You anxiously tucked your hair behind your ear. “Thanks for earlier, by the way. You know, being patient…”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Right.”

“So, you feel up to telling me what’s going on and why you called tonight or did you want to talk about something else?”

You bit at your thumbnail, unsure. “I feel bad. I’ve taken up so much of your time already.” You glanced at the clock and saw that you had been on the phone with him now for almost half an hour.

“Don’t worry about the time and I don’t want you feeling badly.” He sounded completely genuine when he said it and it made you feel a little bit better about monopolizing his time like this. “This is why I’m here. So, if you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”

You still weren’t certain you should take him up on his offer. “Are you sure? What if there’s someone else who needs to call in who is having an actual crisis and you’re stuck on the phone with me? I would feel bad if they didn’t get to talk to you when they needed to because of me.”

“I’m not the only one here so if someone else does call in, they’ll speak to one of the other counselors who can help them. While we’re on the subject, what you’re experiencing is just as valid as what anyone else might be experiencing. I’m not stuck on the phone with you, I want to be talking with you and try to help you in any way I can. And yes, I’m sure.”

You contemplated it, turning it over and over in your brain. This was why you called. This was why you decided to give the helpline a try, to speak to a stranger who would listen and possibly be able to help you and if not, at least maybe understand where you were coming from. If he was willing (and he had been helpful so far), then why not?

“Would it help if I promise not to make any more Star Wars references?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Tremendously.”

“Deal,” he laughed. You liked the sound of his laugh; it was warm, inviting, and put you instantly at ease. This CJ seemed to know what he was doing and you could now see why people called in to speak to him and other counselors like him.

You nervously licked your lips and decided to take the plunge. You told him everything. You told him about how it started when you began college, how the classes and workload immediately overwhelmed you. How you struggled to keep from drowning in assignments and tests and projects and papers. How you started to develop these episodes and how badly you felt during them. How you had tried to talk to your parents but they just didn’t seem to hear you, dismissing it as an issue that would be resolved by you being more outgoing and feeling more grateful that you had such an educational opportunity when many didn’t. How you could be in a room full of a hundred people and still feel completely alone, especially when an episode kicked in. You’d even told him about your failed attempt at attending the frat party. He had rarely talked, giving you the floor, but he had interjected a couple of times to either support you or make some helpful suggestions. Other than that, he just listened. By the time you finished, you felt like you had told him your whole life story, but you had to admit that you felt a lot better once you got it all off your chest, which incidentally, was feeling lighter. And this time, someone listened and actually heard you. That made all the difference.

You glanced at the clock for the first time in a long time and noted it was 10:16. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, your cheeks immediately heating up. Had you really been talking nonstop for over three hours? “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late. I should let you go so you can speak to other callers.”

“My shift ended fifteen minutes ago actually.”

Your heart stopped and however much better you’d been feeling, felt like it went right down the drain. How could you have been so self-absorbed and only concerned with your problems that you’d talked his ear off and used up his whole shift? Not one other person got to talk to him tonight and you didn’t even go to that school. Seriously, how selfish were you? “I-I’m so, so sorry. You should have stopped me or told me there was a time limit per call.” You were full on babbling now. “I didn’t mean to— I am so beyond sorry. I’m going to let you go. Thank you so much for your help and I hope you have a good rest of your night. Don’t worry. I promise I won’t call again. Good night.”

You went to hang up the phone when you heard loudly, “Please don’t hang up.”

You put it back to your ear, your brows drawing together in confusion. “But you said your shift was over.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “But that’s okay. If I wanted you to stop talking, I would have said something. And did I ask you to stop?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then I didn’t want you to stop talking. It seems like there’s a lot on your plate at the moment or else you wouldn’t have called, right?”

“Okay, yeah. But—”

“So it’s good that you called and I’m glad I was able to help. And for the record, there’s no time limit on a call.” Someone said something to him in the background and he quietly responded though you couldn’t hear what he said. “I’m actually gonna get going because my replacement is here and they don’t have another place to sit.”

“Right. Of course. Again, sorry.”

“But,” he continued. “I’m going to be here Monday afternoon around 2 so if you want to call back then we can talk again.”

“I have class then.” You truly did but even if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be calling him back. You had taken up enough of his time.

“I’m here until 6:00 that day.”

“I have a study session after that class.” Okay, maybe that was a lie. “But I appreciate the offer. Thank you and have a good—”

“I’m back on again next Friday. Same time. Why don’t you call me then if you’re free?”

“I appreciate it, CJ, but don’t worry. If I need the helpline again, I’ll call, but you helped me a lot tonight and I feel better so…I won’t need to call. Again, I’m sorry I monopolized your shift.”

“Do me a favor and call me again anyway, even if you are feeling better. I’d like to check in with you and the only way I can do that is if you call me back.”

“Right. Being anonymous and all,” you mumbled. Thank God for that. You didn’t think your embarrassment at talking his head off for over three hours while you complained about your life would ever go away.

“Yeah. So, please, if you can call me next week, same time, even if you just tell me you’re feeling better and hang up. That’s all I ask.”

You supposed you could do that, after he’d generously taken the time to hear you out, after he’d helped you through your episode. “Okay.”

“Friday, 7:00. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you whispered.

And so had begun the tradition of you calling him every Friday night at 7:00. You hadn’t intended for that to happen, honestly. But each time you would talk to him, ranging in times from twenty minutes to an hour and a half (you refused to ever get near that three hour mark again, no matter what he said), he would always ask you to call him back the following week, making you promise that you would. Over time, you noticed that your overwhelmed feeling had lessened considerably (though not completely gone) and instead of having an episode (or panic attack as CJ called them) twice weekly, they had now diminished to one every couple of weeks. And even then they weren’t as bad as they had been, thanks to the techniques CJ suggested you try using. Things had gotten better for you and you had to admit, the helpline definitely was a useful service for students, though for your own personal experience, you attributed a lot of that to CJ.

Speaking of which, that was how you two began to get to know one another, moving from strictly counselor and caller into a tentative friendship. When initially speaking to him, he began to feel like a friend you were just catching up with on how your past week had been, and then it actually sort of became that. He started to tell you more details about himself and now you knew what type of music he liked, what he was majoring in, where he had grown up, and why he had joined The Stand. He had even shared his backstory with you and why he didn’t drink when you told him how uncomfortable college parties made you in general. The conversation was no longer one-sided and you’d come to like it that way.

Until the day came when he asked your name.

“My name?”

“Well, yeah, so I know what to call you. It feels weird calling you “you” all the time,” he laughed.

“Um…” You were practically crapping bricks. You didn’t expect this.

“Just your first name. You’ll still be anonymous,” he reassured. “It could be a nickname if you want. Or your middle name. Just something.”

You ran over it in your mind. What if he still somehow managed to find out who you were if you gave him only your first name? Sure, you weren’t going to the same schools, but what if somehow someway…? Plus, your friends weren’t exactly fans of CJ right now. Apparently, Jen had a major crush on him but her hopes were dashed when he told her he didn’t date (something he had told you long before you heard it via your friends) and then hooked up with Audrey the same night. You hadn’t been there that night, opting to stay in and study for a huge test you had coming up in your Lit class, and after hearing that not only had CJ been present but also what happened, you were glad you had made that decision. Audrey and Joey were on the outs thanks to the events of that night and now so were Jen and Audrey once it was revealed that CJ and Audrey had slept together, right before Pacey punched his face in.

When that Friday rolled around, you almost didn’t call him. You were angry and hurt yourself. Angry because his careless actions had hurt more than one of your friends, and hurt because truth be told, you had started to crush on him yourself from afar. You trusted him with the details of your life, very personal details (without giving specifics obviously), and he’d helped you. How could he be this helpful, compassionate guy working at a helpline but turn out to be this scummy, advantage-taking, selfish player? You couldn’t reconcile in your head the CJ you were getting to know with the CJ your friends saw.

“That’s just the thing, Y/N,” Jen told you when you wondered aloud how a helpline counselor could do something like he had with your friends. “Most people who go into those positions to help other people are usually a thousand times more screwed up than the people they’re helping. Audrey’s been hurting, as you know, and she’s been acting out and he saw an opportunity. Case closed.” But it wasn’t case closed for you. Not by a mile. You wanted answers, but how could you get them while remaining anonymous?

So that following Friday at 7:00, as you angrily punched in the helpline number, you had no idea how you would do it but you were determined to get them. And if you didn’t like what you heard, then this would be your last call and you would close the book on CJ and your budding friendship for good.

It caught you off guard, though, when you heard a different voice this time.

“Hello, Helpline. This is David.”

You nearly hung up. You knew David; he was starting to hang out with your group more and more, especially Jack. What if he recognized your voice?

“Hello?”

You forced yourself to ask the burning question on the tip of your tongue, albeit with a slightly higher pitch of voice. “Hi, is CJ there?”

“No, I’m sorry.” You covered the mouthpiece with your hand and let out a sigh of relief. Whether it was because David didn’t recognize you or you didn’t have to confront CJ right this second, you couldn’t be sure. Probably a bit of both. “He called out sick and asked me to fill in for him. He should be back next week, though.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll call then. Thank you.” You quickly hung up before he could ask you anything else.

The next Friday you called, you got CJ.

“Hey,” he greeted, sounding relieved when he heard your voice. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.” You were standing in your dorm room, staring out the window and watching the rain, your arms crossed. You weren’t as angry as last week, the extra time allowing you to let a cooler head prevail, but you still wanted answers. “How are you?”

“Honestly? I’ve been better.”

“I’m sorry. I know you were sick last week. Has it not gotten any better?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m sorry about that. I was feeling lousy and just needed to take a day, you know?” And he didn’t need to be parading around a still-healing black eye that might prompt questions, you bet.

“I get that.”

“God, I wish I had your number outside of this so I could call you.” Your jaw tightened. Perhaps your friends were right; there was a whole other side to him. A side you didn’t really want to get to know. “I really could’ve used a friend to talk to.”

You unclenched your jaw when you realized he wasn’t hitting on you and when you thought about it, he sounded genuinely miserable and he never had in any of your previous conversations, even when your friendship formed. It was unlike him, or at least the CJ you had gotten to know. Just like this behavior your friends had told you about sounded unlike him. “Well, I’m here now, if you want to talk.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make this about me. You called in to talk, not to hear about my problems,” he laughed, sounding nervous. That was a first.

“I’m sure. What are friends for?”

He told you everything while not naming anyone. He didn’t hold back anything and you realized that while he didn’t know who you were, he was giving you the side that had been missing from the story your friends told you: his side. Every side has a story after all. He admitted he had messed up big time. He had hurt Jen (or Blondie as he called her), he had been an ass to Pacey (or The Guy Who Punched My Face) when he had no right to be, and he should have never hooked up with Audrey (or The Girl That Came Out of Nowhere). Apparently, Jen had said to him the same thing she said to you and it got him thinking, along with some things Audrey had said. He felt like a huge jerk and all he wanted to do was keep his head down and move forward, get back on the right track that his life had been headed in. You stayed silent as he talked and before you knew it, the clock read 9:47.

“Your shift is over soon,” you whispered once he was done.

“Yeah, but I still have a few minutes. So what do you think? Am I a complete jackass or what?” He let out another nervous chuckle.

You briefly pressed your lips together as you thought of how best to answer that. In the end, you were as honest as you could be without giving yourself away. “I think we all make mistakes sometimes. But as long as we recognize them, apologize to those we’ve hurt, and try to do better, then that’s all that matters. So no, not a complete jackass.”

This time when he laughed, it sounded relieved. “Thanks.”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for,” you repeated his words back to him, teasing him slightly.

A moment of silence passed between you before he asked, “Will you call again next week?”

That made you do a double take. He never asked you to call the following week like that. Usually he asked in the form of making you promise you would call or he’d tell you he’d talk to you the following week. But when he asked like this, he sounded uncertain, vulnerable. You knew then that more than just his face and ego had been hurt by recent events. Perhaps you were a fool but you believed his remorse to be genuine.

“Yeah,” you assured him. “I’ll call next week.”

And when you did, he immediately hit you with the name question.

“Earth to you…” He called, snapping you out of it and reclaiming your attention. “See? It doesn’t really work,” he laughed.

You had to be careful here. Not only because you didn’t want him to find out who you were but also because if your friends ever found out, especially Audrey…you were toast.

You opened your mouth to give him the name of a classmate that couldn’t be traced back to you but “Jo” came tumbling out instead.

“Jo?”

Oh crap. You had Audrey and then Joey on your mind and it just slipped out. Crap, crap, crap. “Yeah,” you lied. “Jo.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jo.” You could practically hear him smiling, happy to have gotten a name out of you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, angry with yourself. “Nice to meet you, too,” you mumbled before you dropped your head into your hands.

So now here you were, him thinking you were Jo from the college he was attending, and you were calling him every single week at the same time like clock work. You had long ago stopped questioning the morality of what you were doing and it seemed that he didn’t appear to question it at all. He was always happy to hear from you and your conversations were more personal now. You couldn’t deny the way your heart rate spiked every time you heard his voice when he picked up the call or how whenever his name was mentioned in passing by David or Jen (though rare these days), you would specifically tune in, listening for anything that had to do with him. You had it bad and you knew it, but it was also a safe crush from a distance and would be staying that way.

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of your reverie and remembered CJ has asked you a question. “I’m good. Really good. How about you?”

“Really good, huh? I’m happy to hear it and happy to be hearing from you.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I got that paper back and you were so right, The Writing Center really helped. I can’t believe I never thought to try it before. Thank you so much for that idea.”

“I’m happy to be of service,” he chuckled. “I’m glad it helped. And the club thing? Did you give that a try as well?”

Your smile dropped. He had been trying to urge you to join a club or a group where you had shared interests with other students. His theory was that if you gave a small group of people a shot doing a social activity you might enjoy, that it might help decrease your nervousness in other social settings. Even though you told him you had a group of friends you regularly met up with, he didn’t think expanding your social circles would be a bad thing to consider. “No? I told you, CJ, that’s not really my thing.”

“I get that, I do. How about this? If you want, I could meet you at Student Activities and we could take a look around together, get some info. No pressure, of course, but you wouldn’t have to walk in there alone. I know it can be a bit much sometimes. I remember my first semester here and I didn’t know where to stick my head.”

You froze. That was the first time he’d ever mentioned the possibility of you meeting in person. Perhaps if you were really Jo from Boston Bay College, you could take him up on it or give him your number like he’d asked you for or call his room number like he’d offered up a few times now so you could talk outside of the helpline. But you weren’t and so you had to decline. “I appreciate the offer but it’s not my thing so I’m going to have to pass. Sorry, but thank you, though.”

“If you’re sure.” He sounded slightly disappointed but maybe that was just you imagining it.

“Yep, I’m sure. Uh, so listen, I can’t stay on long. My roommate and her boyfriend will be here in less than ten so I’m gonna go so I can get out of here before I get hit by the clothes hurricane that’s most likely to happen.” It was a complete lie. Your roommate, Stacey, had actually gone to visit her boyfriend for the weekend. You would have peace and quiet and the dorm to yourself for two whole days.

He chuckled good-naturedly. “I don’t blame you. If you get bored later, I’m here at The Stand until 10:00, like you already know, and then I’ll be back in my room. You can call me then if you want to talk. I”ll be up for a while so don’t worry about calling too late.”

“Oh. Thanks. Maybe I’ll do that.” You weren’t going to and he knew you weren’t going to. You hadn’t the last two times he’d made the same offer and the last two times you’d given him the same response.

“Jo?”

“Yeah?”

“If I don’t hear from you… Call next week, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, smiling, like always. You said your quick goodbyes and you hung up, letting out a heavy breath. While he had been urging you to contact him personally, he had never mentioned meeting him before. That was different. And it worried you at the same time. Why the offer now? Granted, he was just trying to be helpful to you, given the context, but what if he began to find other ways to work it in like he already had about your phone numbers? What if he continued to push to meet Jo?

You shook your head, telling yourself that you were doing it again, worrying over things that might not happen. You would cross that bridge when you came to it, something CJ had once said to you that you kept for yourself as your own personal mantra. You would wait to see how next week would go.

But unfortunately, the call never happened.

You had been out with Jack and David on Thursday night at Hell’s Kitchen, when Jen waltzed in, smiling and taking a seat. Joey and Emma were working and Pacey was supposed to join you later.

“You worked late today,” Jack commented.

“Training took a little bit longer than expected. We were supposed to be done at 6:00 but then our relief called and said they were going to be late. Of course, since CJ was going to stay, I wasn’t going to just leave him there.” Your ears perked up at the mention of CJ. You knew Jen was training as a counselor and he was the one training her. Jen had begrudgingly forgiven CJ but it was also obvious to you all that she still had a crush on him. While you couldn’t blame her, you also felt for her. CJ told you that he had to make it clear once more to Blondie that he wasn’t looking to date though he was happy she had finally started training at the helpline. He really believed she would make a great counselor once she settled into it.

Talk about complicated. Jen was your friend and you didn’t want to see her get hurt, but you could also understand if CJ didn’t see her that way, he just didn’t. They were both your friends now and you just wanted them both to be happy, whatever that looked like.

“But then, listen to this,” she continued. “Our relief, this guy named Seth, sees me there with CJ and starts teasing him about how he’s racking up all of these beautiful girls through the helpline, not leaving any for him.”

“Jen,” Jack warned.

“No, listen. This is good. You’re going to like this.”

Jack sighed but let her finish.

“CJ laughs it off but then Seth mentions how he has this girl calling him every Friday night, around the same time, and she talks his ear off for hours.”

You were about to take a bite of your french fry when you froze. Your heart dropped down to your feet.

“And so I ask if this is true and CJ says that we’re there to help everybody, time limits aren’t a thing, and it doesn’t matter how many times a caller calls back or they speak to the same counselor. As long as they get the help they need.”

“He’s right,” David chimed in.

“But then Seth starts teasing him again and asks if CJ can give him tips on how to get dates using the helpline. CJ laughs and says sure. I mention how he said he wasn’t looking to date and Seth says he tells every girl that so he doesn’t have to commit but can still get what he wants.” You dropped your fry back into your basket, trying to ignore the rolling nausea in your stomach.

“I don’t know about that,” David chuckled nervously.

“He didn’t deny it, David. He just laughed and walked away. Can you believe it? He’s using the helpline to get girls. Talk about abusing the system, not to mention the absolute lack of morality.” You definitely felt like you were going to be sick. “I quit. If that’s what guys like him and Seth are using that helpline for then I don’t want any part of it. And CJ? Audrey was right. He’s a skeevy player. I can’t believe I didn’t see it this whole time.” Jen shook her head. You were getting that all-too familiar falling feeling again.

“Wait, seriously? Guys are using the helpline to pick up girls?” Jack turned to David.

“No. Jen, I’m sure Seth was just kidding and CJ was just playing along. Nobody is using the helpline to pick anyone up. Everyone that works there knows the rules and they’re there to help callers. How could they pick anyone up, anyway? It’s all anonymous.”

“Yeah, but if they pushed for a date or something… It could happen.” You immediately felt your stomach jolt and like someone had punched you in the gut at the same time.

“It could,” David agreed. “But I doubt it does.”

“He has the same girl calling him every single week at the same time. What would keep her calling like that?” Jen interjected. You glanced away from the table for a moment, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer David would give.

“Is that true? Every week?” Jack asked in disbelief.

“It’s true,” David confirmed. “I actually got her once when CJ was out sick. She sounded nice.” If you could have, you would have given him a smile, thankful for David’s attempt to defend CJ and the helpline and unknowingly you. But right then, you were trying not to hyperventilate. “And CJ appears to be helping her. He said she’s made a lot of progress since they started talking.”

“He talked to you about her?” Jen looked shocked. Oh God. Your chest started to feel tight.

“Only because he was going to be out sick that one day and in case she called and then decided to talk to me, he wanted me to be up to speed in case she needed something. That’s all.”

“I feel badly for this girl. She probably thinks CJ is some great guy and she can trust him but based on what Seth said, he’s simply playing the long game with her. A girl whose trust he’s taking advantage of. I’m telling you, Audrey was right about him and I should’ve seen it.” Jen rubbed at her forehead. It was beyond hot in here and even though it wasn’t crowded, the room started to feel smaller.

“I don’t think that’s true, Jen,” David defended. “I don’t think he’s looking to take advantage of this girl at all. I think he truly wants to help her.”

“Yeah, that’s how it started with Audrey and look at how that turned out.” David dropped his gaze to his food, continuing to poke at it with his fork. There wasn’t much he could say to that though he wished he still would. “And if that’s true, he only wants to help her, then why was he laughing along when Seth talked about her and how she keeps him on the phone for hours? How is that helping her?”

You felt like your feet were locked in cement but your legs were wobbling to and fro. And yet you also felt like a large boulder was now sitting on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. How could any of this conversation be happening right now?

Jack glanced from David to Jen. “Perhaps David’s right, Jen. Maybe he was just playing along. That’s what guys do sometimes. You know that.”

“I don’t think that’s what that was. Either way, I quit.”

Jack and David started to urge her not to quit, but at that point you’d had enough. Your hands were clammy and you felt that feeling on your forehead, too. You needed cold, and air. “Excuse me,” you nearly rasped out and beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom. You could feel your dinner coming back up. Joey stopped you in your trek.

“Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

You shook your head and dodged past her, hurrying to the bathroom. Once you reached it, you locked the door and pushed into a stall just in time. You emptied the contents of your stomach and once you were finished, you made your way towards the sink, splashing cold water on your face. You could feel the panic attack you were having and you tried your best to ward it off but to no avail.

You slid down the wall and struggled to breathe, trying the techniques CJ had taught you. You didn’t want to think about him right now but you also didn’t want to be having this happen while your friends sat right outside. Not to mention, you knew Joey was going to come check on you. You gasped for air and rubbed at your chest. Once it passed, you unlocked the door, made excuses to Joey and your friends, went home, showered, and cried yourself to sleep. For the first time in a while, you’d had a particularly bad episode and ended the night in tears: two things you hadn’t done since you’d started talking to CJ regularly. You felt as if all the progress you’d made was like a house of cards that fell to the ground after one card was pulled out from under you. And all because you’d trusted the wrong person.

So you stopped calling and instead, spent your Friday nights at the library, studying, so you wouldn’t be tempted to pick up the phone and call to confront the guy who’d betrayed your trust.

A few weeks later, you were sitting on Joey’s bed, watching Audrey unload her closet onto her mattress. Apparently, she was going to rehab, for real this time. She was ready to confront the fact that her drinking was out of control. Joey was helping her sort through everything and handed you things to fold and place in her suitcase. Eddie had already taken one heavy suitcase down to the car, along with a very high Bob.

You all looked up when there was a polite knock on their dorm room door. Joey got up to answer it, most likely thinking it was Eddie, but when she opened the door, it revealed another guy altogether.

There stood CJ, in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a jacket covering his tall frame. Your heart skipped a beat before falling into your stomach but then leaping back into place and pounding faster than before for a whole other reason. You immediately grabbed a magazine from the nightstand and began sifting through it, your jaw clenched and you refusing to look in his direction.

Before anyone could say a word, Audrey groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw CJ hold up a placating hand in her direction. “I’m not here for you, okay? I’m actually looking for someone.”

You froze.

“I bet you are,” Audrey grumbled.

Joey crossed her arms. “Who?”

“A girl by the name of Jo who lives in this building.”

You mentally cursed yourself. You knew you had let the name of your dorm building slip once by accident but he hadn’t appeared to have heard you so you thought you were in the clear; apparently, he had heard you. Crap.

Joey tensed. Uh oh. You had a feeling this was going to come back to haunt you at some point. Here it was. “Why are you looking for me?”

CJ’s brow drew together. “You’re Jo?”

Audrey was suddenly at Joey’s side. “Yeah, why are you looking for her?”

“Jo is a girl who called the helpline. I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks and I just wanted to check on her.”

Her distaste for CJ forgotten, Audrey turned in shock to her roommate. “Joey Potter, you called the helpline?”

“What? No. Don’t be ridiculous, Audrey.” Joey then looked at CJ. “I don’t know who this girl is but it’s not me. Good luck in your search.” She went to close the door but CJ stopped her.

“Wait, so you’ve never heard of a girl named Jo who lives in this building?”

“No,” Audrey snapped. “Now, go away.”

“Hold on a second. Because Joanna Martin who lives on the 2nd floor isn’t her and has never heard of her. Now you’re saying you’re not her and you’ve never heard of her either?”

Audrey gave him a nasty smirk. “Imagine that. A girl using a fake name calling an anonymous helpline. She probably knows what a sleazeball you are and didn’t want you stalking her. If she was calling the helpline, she’s probably got enough on her plate. Best of luck, Stalker Boy.”

Audrey went to shut the door in his face but again, he stopped it.

“I don’t really care what you think of me. You want to think I’m the bad guy in everything that happened with us? That’s fine. But I’m actually trying to find this girl to help her.”

“Help her into your bed, you mean.”

His jaw clenched. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, I bet it is but whatever.” Audrey rolled her eyes and turned back to you. “Y/N, have you ever heard of this girl he’s looking for?”

Your eyes snapped up to them and all three of them were now staring at you, waiting for your answer. Crap. CJ was looking right at you. Double crap. You shook your head and went back to your magazine.

“There you go. No one here has heard of her. Buh-bye now.”

Audrey was closing the door when Joey’s phone started to ring. Joey, who had gone back into the whirlwind of clothes, looked over at you. “Hey, can you get that? Eddie might be calling from his cell phone.”

You nodded and picked up the line. “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. Can I talk to Joey? Audrey’s friend, Bob, is getting a little impatient down here.”

“Sure. One sec.” You handed the phone to Joey. “It’s Eddie.” She took it and began rolling her eyes when Eddie was most likely telling her the same thing he had just told you. She came over, zipped up the suitcase you had been working on after dumping more things into it. “Do you mind taking this to Eddie downstairs? He’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Sure thing.” You tossed the magazine back onto the night stand and grabbed the suitcase handle, picking it up and placing it on its wheels. You slipped your worn paperback copy of your book into the back pocket of your jeans, intent on returning it to your room when you came back up. Now that you knew CJ was trying to track you down and he was in the building, you didn’t feel comfortable having any clues pointing to your identity out in the open like that.

You grabbed the tail of the suitcase and began to pull it along. “Oh my God, Aud. Do you really need this many outfits?”

She looked up from her cell phone and gave you a smile. “Of course. Rehab is bound to be drab so I’m going to make it fab.” She shot you a wink and opened the door for you.

You laughed and shook your head, crossing over the threshold. You made your way to the elevator and pushed the button. While you were waiting, you heard behind you, “Need some help with that?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. CJ was right there, behind you, talking directly to you. While a part of you wanted to tell him to take a hike, your desire for anonymity was greater. You turned and gave him a wan smile, shaking your head. His green eyes were intent on you and you didn’t care for that one bit. It was like he knew who you were without you even having to say it. Luckily, at that moment, the elevator dinged and the door opened. You went to roll the suitcase onto it when a hand picked it up out of nowhere.

“Let me give you a hand,” CJ offered, not waiting for you to reply and stepping into the elevator. You paused for a moment, considering not getting onto it with him but Eddie was expecting you and Joey and Audrey were waiting for you to come back. You let out a quiet sigh and stepped inside, hitting the button for the Lobby and waiting for the doors to close.

Once they did and you started descending, CJ glanced over at you. “So, Jo, were you planning on ever calling me again?”

Your heart started to pound but you forced yourself to remain cool as a cucumber, hoping he wouldn’t recognize your voice. You arched a questioning brow up at him. “I don’t know who you think I am but my name’s Y/N. Sorry to disappoint.” You turned back to the door.

“The Green Mile book in your back pocket says otherwise.”

Crap. You tried to think quickly. “That’s just a book I’m reading for class.” You decided to channel Audrey, the queen of mean when she wanted to be; perhaps that would get him to leave you alone. The doors were opening and you turned to give him a smirk. “NIce try, though, Sherlock. Better get back to Watson before he misses you.” You grabbed the tail of the suitcase and nearly stormed out of the elevator.

CJ was suddenly at your side. “I know it’s you. Why are you trying so hard to act like it’s not?”

You shook your head, choosing to ignore him. Thankfully, Eddie came into sight, rushing to get the suitcase.

“Thank you, thank you.” He picked it up and gave you a look. “About how many more of these are coming down, do you think?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. She has a lot of outfits. Joey’s got her work cut out for her.”

Eddie groaned and then noticed CJ standing next to you. “Good to see you again, man.”

“Likewise.”

Eddie glanced between you and CJ before walking away. Great. He was bound to mention that to Joey who would most likely question you about it later thanks to CJ’s impromptu appearance earlier. You spun on your heel and headed back to the elevator, punching the button.

CJ was suddenly next to you. “What happened? Why did you stop calling?” He quietly asked you.

You didn’t answer him, just kept staring straight ahead, your jaw clenched.

He leaned in slightly, his voice even quieter. “Did I make you nervous by offering to meet you? I was only trying to help. Nothing funny, I promise.”

When the doors opened, you stepped inside and of course, he followed you. The doors closed and your ride up began.

“Are you going to talk to me or just keep ignoring me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know your voice. It’s you.” After another quiet moment, he begged, “Would you please just talk to me? What happened?”

You shook your head.

“Something obviously happened to make you stop calling. So, talk to me. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You glared over at him. “Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now please stop bothering me.” CJ looked as if you’d slapped him for a moment and you felt guilty but then you immediately remembered what Jen had said that night at the bar.

He gave you a curt nod and turned to face the door. Once it opened, you went to step out when he lifted the book out of your back pocket.

“Hey! Give that back!” He held it out of your reach, opening it to find the note from your dad on the inside page that he’d written after he bought it for you. Why did you have to mention that in your phone conversations? That was a dead giveaway that yes, Jo was indeed you. How could you have been so stupid?

CJ gestured to the note. “Tell me again how it’s not you.”

You snatched the book out of his hands and hurried down the hall to your room. You would’ve gone back to Audrey’s and Joey’s room, but you were afraid he’d out you to them. Even if they didn’t believe him, you still remembered Audrey’s reaction when she thought it might be Joey for a moment and the latter’s response.

“Y/N, wait,” CJ begged behind you. “Please, can we just talk for a minute?” You were unlocking your door when he was right next to you. “Just one minute. Please. That’s all I’m asking. Then, if you want, you’ll never see or hear from me again.”

You mulled it over for a moment. You could do one minute, you supposed, and get this over with. You glanced up at him and nodded, pretending not to see the relief that filled his expression. You opened the door and then held it open wider for him to follow.

You saw your roommate sitting on her bed, talking on the phone to her boyfriend. “Stace,” you interrupted. “Can you give us a minute?”

She frowned. “I’m kind of in the middle of—”

“I need the room.” Your tone brooked no argument. You surprised her; usually, you kept to yourself and never really stood up to her if she got mean or demanding. But you were not in the mood for any of her crap right then. You were at your limit.

Stacey scoffed but got to her feet. “One second, babe.” She glared at you, which you were more than happy to return, and then turned it onto CJ as well. “Boys aren’t allowed to stay up here so make it quick. You know the rules.”

You huffed out a snort. “The rule you break almost every other night? Got it, Stace, thanks for looking out.” You practically shut the door in her scowling face. You turned to find CJ’s eyes trained on you.

“So that’s the roommate, huh?” You shrugged. “Exactly how I pictured her, scowl and everything.”

You didn’t laugh at his joke and instead, crossed your arms. “You wanted to talk?”

He pressed his lips together and thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. “Why did you stop calling?”

You wanted to tell him the truth but it also seemed best to just get him out of there as soon as possible. He knew who you really were now and that was a problem. Especially if your friends found out you were the girl that had been calling him every week. Because sooner or later, they would want to know why and you weren’t ready to talk about that or have them look at you funny. You knew they’d be supportive, especially Joey and Audrey, but you also knew things would change. And you weren’t quite ready for that to happen.

“I’ve been doing better so there was no need. You should know, you made me your pet project after all.” You didn’t mean to be harsh but you were still angry.

His brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“You know. I’m the girl who calls you every week to talk your ear off and keeps you on the phone for hours. The girl you’ve supposedly been trying to pick up through the helpline, though apparently I’m not the only one.”

His eyes widened. “Y/N, that’s not true at all. I don’t use the helpline to pick up girls or try to get dates. I don’t date, you know I don’t. I don’t know who told you that but it’s not true.”

“But the other part is?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Because that’s how your buddy Seth put it, the way Jen tells it.”

CJ huffed out a mirthless laugh, rubbing at his forehead and giving a nod. “Jen. That’s who you heard this from.”

“Don’t even,” you snapped. “David also mentioned how you told him all about me and my issues.” You used quotation marks on the last word.

His hand dropped. “Okay, first off, you don’t have issues, no more than anybody else around here, myself included. Second, I only told David because I was going to be out that one night. I wanted to make sure if you called in that you were taken care of. That’s it. David is one of our better counselors, he’s a friend, and I trust him completely.”

Your jaw tightened. “That still doesn’t explain why Seth would even say anything like that. And you laughed! You stood there and laughed as this guy, who I don’t know by the way, is turning me calling you for help into a joke! Is that what I am? The joke at the office? Does everyone there know how I’ve been calling you every week and boring you to death with my problems?”

“What? No! You’re not a joke. And you’re not—”

“Really? Because it sure sounded like it to me based on what Jen said.”

“Okay, let’s get something straight. You’re not boring me to death when you call, you’re not talking my ear off, or keeping me stuck on the phone with you, or anything else that someone else might have said. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to be there for you and try to help. Then when we started talking about more than that, I wanted to talk to you even more. If I didn’t want to talk to you at all, if you were such a nuisance, then why would I ask you to call back every week or give you my phone number even?”

“But you weren’t trying to pick me up.”

“No, I wasn’t. I wanted to be available to you if you needed to talk to me outside of the hours I had at The Stand.”

“Yeah, because I was your pet project.”

“No, you weren’t and why do you keep saying that?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Isn’t that what you do, though? Isn’t that why you tracked me down? Isn’t that why you kept trying to get my number and even suggested we meet though the helpline’s supposed to be anonymous? You look for girls who are messed up and try to be their white knight. It gives you some sort of satisfaction, some twisted sense of purpose… That’s what happened with Audrey, right?” Again, he looked like you slapped him but this time, you didn’t feel guilty. You were only speaking the truth. He had told you how much he wanted to help Audrey and how somehow they ended up in bed together and before he knew it, he really liked her and wanted to see more of her. In the end, he’d admitted to you that it might have been him confusing his desire to help her with his interest in her. That maybe Audrey had been right in what she’d said.

You watched as his shoulders deflated slightly and he let out a heavy breath, hanging his head. You bit your lip and glanced away from him, not wanting to see him look so defeated. You had to be strong, you had to stand up for yourself and not let him or anyone else take advantage of you. That was the silent vow you’d made to yourself after you’d cried yourself to sleep that night you found out how you were being used and made a mockery of.

“I tracked you down because I was worried,” he spoke softly. You turned back to find him staring at you, remorse radiating from him. You felt slightly bad for hurting him but you had said nothing but the truth, from his own lips. “It wasn’t like you not to call so I thought maybe something happened or maybe I made you nervous with that last call. Like I said, I gave you my number because I wanted to be there for you anytime you needed me, even if I wasn’t working. So this way you always had a way to get a hold of me if you needed to. I only asked for yours because I did like talking to you and I thought we were becoming friends. I know that’s not the norm for the helpline and it’s never happened before, to me or to anyone else that I know of, but like I said, I enjoyed talking to you. I only offered to meet you at Student Activities that day because you seemed nervous to try it alone and I didn’t want you to feel like that. I would’ve made that offer to anyone that needed it.” He nervously licked his lips. “I do like you but it has nothing to do with my wanting to help you or make sure you’re okay. I made a mistake with Audrey but I learned from it. I told you that.” He sighed before continuing. “I like you, Y/N, because you’re funny and smart and kind. Even if we didn’t meet through the helpline, I still would have liked you once I got to talk to you, once I got to know you better. That’s the truth.”

He turned to leave when he stopped suddenly. “By the way, Seth is the guy who usually relieves me on Friday nights. That’s how he knew about you calling every week. He always liked to razz me about being on the phone with you since I made him fifteen minutes late for his shift that one time. I only laughed because it was obvious he was showing off for Jen, that he likes her, and I was trying not to embarrass him in front of her. I did end up talking to him later about it, though, and asked him not to mention it again in front of her or anyone else. He agreed; he’s not a bad guy.” He glanced back at you over his shoulder. “I’m sorry this happened. If you call the helpline again and want to talk to someone else, I understand. If you don’t want to call at all, I understand that, too. Just…take care of yourself, alright?”

You averted your eyes, not wanting him to see the tears building in them, and you gave him a curt nod. You only looked up again when the door snicked closed. You pretended a tear didn’t suddenly roll down your cheek and you told yourself that you had done the right thing. Though it certainly didn’t feel like it in the moment, deep within your chest.

You stared at your phone, pacing back and forth as you chewed on your thumbnail. It had been almost a month since CJ walked out of your dorm room, leaving you more conflicted than you felt prior to his arrival. You had turned his explanation over and over in your mind so much that you had begun to dream about him every night. You had more panic attacks during that time, to the point where you’d finally taken the plunge and made an appointment to see a therapist. You’d told your parents everything you’d been experiencing, making sure they heard you this time, and told them you needed help. Your mother was still annoyed with you but your father was supportive, especially when you told him that you had a group of friends you met up with pretty regularly. He agreed to help with payments for your therapy.

You were doing better, just like you had been while talking to CJ, and the therapist had even more techniques in her toolbox that she taught you how to use. You’d even opened up to her about CJ and everything that happened with him. She was the initial reason why you were considering making a call that you hadn’t made in quite a while.

When you saw the clock hit 7:21, you made your decision. You huffed out a breath, picked up the phone, and dialed the all-too familiar number.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You resumed your pacing, nervous, unsure of how to say what you wanted to.

“Hello?”

You’ve got this.

“Hello?”

Just do it already. Talk to him.

“Listen, if you’re—”

“What are your plans for tomorrow afternoon?” You rushed out before you lost your nerve.

“Jo?” You appreciated him using your fake name. “Is that you?”

“Well?” You asked.

“Uh, tomorrow? I’m free...”

“Would you…want to get some coffee? Maybe?”

“Coffee, huh?” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Jo, you’re not calling the helpline to ask me out on a coffee date, are you? Because that would be a serious misuse of this valuable resource the college provides,” he teased.

“Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll just wait until Seth is on shift then and call him up to ask him instead. Thanks, though. Bye.”

“Don’t you dare,” he laughed. You lifted the phone back up to your ear. “What time and what coffee shop?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Got a pen?”

You walked into the coffee shop ten minutes early, intent on getting a table and settling in before CJ arrived. To your surprise, he was already there, waving you over. You approached, feeling your heartbeat speed up with every step. “You’re early.”

“I wanted to make sure we got a good table.” You had a feeling that wasn’t the only reason. The worry shadowing his expression confirmed it. Did he really think you had called him up to ask him to meet you only for you not to show? Then again, you supposed you couldn’t blame him.

“Good thinking.” You gestured towards the line with your thumb. “I’m going to get some coffee. Do you want anything?”

He was immediately on his feet. “I’ll get it. You sit down. You still like lattes?”

You gave him a small smile and nodded; he remembered.

He returned your smile. “Okay. Here, take a seat. I’ll be back in a minute.” You watched him walk over to the line as you did just that.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous, but you were taking your therapist’s advice. You were moving your friendship with CJ away from the helpline and out into the real world. You were giving him another chance while also allowing both of you to start over. If CJ agreed to, that is.

A few minutes later, he returned and placed your cup in front of you. You gave him a smile of thanks and waited for him to join you.

“So,” he started once he was settled. “You called in.”

“Only to ask you to meet me,” you pointed out.

The corner of his lips tipped up in a genuine smile. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me, too.” And you meant it. You were happy he’d said yes. “I actually asked you to meet me because I wanted to thank you.”

His brows drew together. “Thank me?”

You nodded and began to tell him about all of the recent developments in your life, including therapy. You also apologized for how harsh you’d been the last time you saw each other but he waved it off, saying you didn’t need to and he understood. He listened intently and his smile grew when you mentioned how the therapy was helping and your panic attacks were starting to lessen.

“I’m really happy to hear it, Y/N, and I’m glad you’re doing better.”

You bit at your lip, feeling nervous about speaking this next part. “It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t helped me the way you did, especially that first night. So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmured.

Your heart began to pound against your rib cage but you bravely surged forward and kissed his cheek. When you sat back in your chair, his eyes were wide and you felt your face get hot. “Sorry. I just really wanted to do that for a long time. I hope that was okay.”

He grinned. “More than okay.” You felt relief sweep through you. “I was just thinking—”

“I know. You’re not dating, and we’re friends. Don’t worry, I understand.”

He studied you for a moment before speaking again. “I was going to say ‘I was just thinking what a coincidence because there’s something I’ve wanted to do for a really long time, too.’” His hand gently covered yours and he slowly leaned in, giving you time to pull away or tell him to stop. You weren’t going to do either.

His lips brushed gently against yours and you felt a thrill rush through you at the contact. You had imagined kissing him so many times but the fantasy did absolutely no justice to the real thing. When you broke apart but he didn’t lean back right away, he murmured, “Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you whispered before pulling him back into you, both of you grinning like idiots before your lips connected again.

You stopped, seeing the front of the building you were about to go into. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” You asked nervously.

CJ turned back to you and gave you a reassuring smile before cupping your cheek and kissing you. “Yes. We should.”

“But—”

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he assured you. “Trust me. I’m right here with you, okay?” He pecked your lips one more time, tightened his hold on your hand, and began pulling you forward.

“Okay.” You didn’t sound so sure about this and truthfully, you weren’t.

CJ chuckled and led you inside. The Stand office was decorated with balloons and streamers and there was even confetti on the floor. One of the counselors was leaving since she was soon to graduate and a party was being thrown for her last day. You tried not to get overwhelmed at the amount of people filling the small space. It was overly warm in here and you could barely hear yourself think over the din of multiple conversations going on at once. Somewhere music was playing at a decent level. You noted a room in the back where through the window you could see two people sitting, talking on the phone, a closed door in between them and the noise.

CJ intertwined your fingers and moved you both towards a group of a few people that he was intent on talking to, people greeting him as he passed. You remembered the techniques you had been taught and tried to put them into action while reminding yourself that you were with CJ and he wasn’t going to abandon you.

He stopped and greeted the group before he turned to you smiling. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

One of the guys laughed. “Ah, so this is Y/N.” Your heart started hammering inside your chest. “CJ hasn’t shut up about you since you two started dating.” You nearly sighed in relief.

CJ shrugged, grinning down at you. “Seth’s not wrong.”

Your eyes widened before you turned back to the guy. “Oh, so you’re Seth.”

Seth beamed. “Aww, CJ, you told her about me? I just knew we had something special,” he joked.

You frowned. “Hey now. Go get your own CJ. This one’s mine.” You winked up at CJ who laughed.

He let go of your hand to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into him. “Definitely yours,” he whispered huskily.

Seth pretended to gag. “Ugh. Young love. Gross. You can have him, Y/N.”

“Damn right I do,” you laughed as CJ wrapped himself around you from behind and leaned down to kiss your cheek.

From that moment on, it wasn’t so bad. CJ circulated around the room to different groups, introducing you each time. With him by your side, you began to feel more comfortable and you opened up bit by bit. At one point, CJ took your hand and led you away. “I want to show you something.”

“Again?” You teased. “Didn’t you already show me something back in my dorm earlier? Twice?”

“Ha ha. No, this is something different. Though there will definitely be a third time when I get you out of here and back to my place.”

“Ooo. You sure know how to sweet talk a girl, Mr. Braxton.”

He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, and pulled you into a kiss that left you breathless. “Just a small preview for later.”

“A small preview?” You panted. You just loved teasing him and couldn’t resist.

He rolled his eyes in amusement. “Come on.”

CJ led you over to a desk and with his free hand, he swiped confetti off of the seat. “This is it. My station,” he told you.

Your eyes roamed over the computer, the keyboard, the notepad and pens, stopping on the corded phone. So this was it. This was where CJ had sat on those Friday nights during your conversations. You smiled to yourself at the memory.

You let out a squeal when CJ quickly sat down in the chair and pulled you into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep from falling, glaring at his laugh. You softened though when you looked back over the desk. “So this is where you sat on those nights we talked?”

“Uh huh. Though I much prefer you here on this end with me.” He gripped your chin between his fingers and turned you to him, kissing you sweetly. You snuck your fingers into his hair and tilted your head to deepen it, not caring right then about anyone or anything else around you.

You and CJ had been dating for a while now and it was starting to become serious. He had met your parents when they came to visit. Your dad had liked him right away. Your mom, on the other hand, had given him a bit of a hard time but underneath the harsh exterior she was presenting, you could tell she liked him, too. He had initially planned to transfer to a school in New York, which you more than supported (though you were secretly heartbroken). You reminded him that you had done the phone thing once upon a time and you could do it again, if he wanted. After contemplating it, he decided to stay in Boston.

“Please don’t tell me you chose to stay because of me. I’m not going anywhere. If it’s a great opportunity for you, you should go. I don’t want you to regret not going.”

He’d simply smiled. “I have a great opportunity right here and I would regret leaving.” He’d kissed your nose. “Besides, Boston’s home.”

“CJ, you should go. I’m almost done and I can come visit you. It’s only a few hours’ drive. You could show me things like the Empire State Building or take me to a museum or a play or show me Times Square.” You’d tried to make it sound enticing but inside it was killing you. Everyone knew long distance relationships had their problems and who knew? Maybe he might meet someone new in the Big Apple. But you also wanted him to do what was right for him, just like you’d spoken with your therapist about. You didn’t want him to resent you later on if he didn’t take this opportunity now and you certainly didn’t want him to have any regrets. “We could even visit Jen and Jack, see how her Grams is doing.”

Jen and Jack had transferred to New York. You had been worried to tell her that you and CJ were dating but while she was a little miffed in the beginning, she was more focused on the developing situation with her grandmother who had been diagnosed with cancer. Eventually, she forgave you before she left and gave you her blessing. You had been relieved; Jen was a good person, a good friend, and you didn’t want to lose her friendship. Jack had been worried about Jen’s reaction but for the most part, he had been fine with it. David was happy for you both. Audrey was doing better these days and though she had wanted to know what the hell you were thinking by shacking up with The Sleaze (as she referred to him), she had eventually told you she loved you and just wanted you to be happy. Joey asked you if you were sure when you told her and when you assured her that you were, she pretty much said the same thing as her former roommate and gave you a hug. She gave you a look when you pulled away and you knew that she had connected the dots on who you really were to CJ, but to her credit, she mercifully never said anything. Pacey and Emma had shrugged (CJ had apologized to Pacey at some point after what happened with Audrey and they had resolved things), wishing you well. Dawson…well, you never really got to know Dawson all that well during his brief visits so no conversation needed to be had there really. All in all, your friends were supportive, even if still a little wary of how things were going to work out. You were happy, though. It was strange but shifting from friends into romance proved to be an easier transition then you thought it would be.

CJ laid his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes, as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. “I’m not going without you.” You went to speak, to remind him you weren’t going anywhere, when he cut you off. “I know what I want. I’m okay with my decision. I need you to be, too.”

You tenderly stroked his arm. “Are you sure?” You whispered, worried he was making a mistake.

“More than sure.” He then pulled you to him for a kiss.

“Okay,” you whispered to his lips before kissing him again.

And now you had met all of his co-workers at The Stand and had seen where he worked a few days out of the week. He had offered to bring you several times before, but you had been hesitant to take him up on it, still worried someone might figure out who you really were. It’s not that you were embarrassed that you had called the helpline for help, but your business was your business and you didn’t want to be seen as that girl CJ got himself through the service. You both obviously knew that wasn’t the case but people talked, people judged, and you just wanted to steer clear of both as long as you possibly could. You knew you shouldn’t care what anyone thought or said, just like CJ didn’t; it was something you were currently working on in therapy.

“So,” you teased when he finally broke away for air. “Is there a switchboard somewhere that you have somebody directing all the girls to you when they call? Is that how I got you every single time I called?”

He grinned. “Not exactly. I told everybody that any calls that came in on Fridays at 7:00 were mine.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Well, how did you know I would call every single time?” You huffed out. “How do you know I might not have gotten held up? Or made plans at the last second? Or got fed up with you?”

He gave you a cocky smirk. “Because you liked talking to me. I could tell.”

You playfully swatted at his shoulder, making him laugh, and rolled your eyes. “It always amazes me that you’re able to make it through doorways with that massive ego of yours. That can’t be how you knew I would call you every time.”

His smirk grew and he nodded.

“I hate you,” you mumbled. You didn’t really mean it and he knew you didn’t.

CJ pulled you closer up against him. “You have a weird way of showing that.” He inclined his head towards your embrace around his neck.

“True,” you murmured and kissed him again.

“Plus,” CJ added when you pulled back. “You always said you would call back and I believed you.”

“Better,” you decided. “Though I will begrudgingly admit that I did like talking to you.”

“Like I said, I could—”

“Hush.” You covered his lips with yours and he chuckled into your mouth. When you pulled back this time, you laid your forehead against his, your eyes closed, smiling. “I love you,” you murmured.

“I love you, too” he whispered back to you, lifting up to press a kiss to your brow before you buried your head into his neck and he discreetly snuck his hands under your shirt to rub your back, just the way you liked.

“Want to get out of here?” He asked you after a few minutes had passed.

“Mmm.” You lifted your head to look him in the eye. “No Fleetwood Mac this time, though.”

He laughed and helped you to your feet. “What have you got against one of the greatest bands of all time?”

“Nothing. It’s just weird to listen to that chorus when we’re about to…you know.” You could feel your cheeks starting to warm.

He grinned salaciously at you. “Oh, I know. Hey, at least it’s not the Star Wars theme.” He snickered at your glare and picked up your hand, kissing it. “No Fleetwood Mac tonight. Got it.” He intertwined your fingers and his grin softened into an affectionate smile before he led you out of there. You quickly made your goodbyes and hurried back to his place where he kept his promise of no rock group music track playing along to your own soundtrack.

Later, as CJ slept, you repeatedly ran your fingers through his messy hair in soothing strokes as you studied him. Who knew calling the helpline that one Friday night would lead you here? Where you were happy, in love, and doing much better than you ever thought possible? You had gone from feeling overwhelmed by your education to feeling a different type of overwhelmed together. Overwhelming love and affection for the special person in your life; overwhelming gratitude for the progress you’d been able to make in managing your anxiety and panic attacks as best you could; and overwhelming contentment with every single moment, no matter the ups and downs that was best known as life. Regardless of whatever happened from here, you knew you’d be okay and you’d handle whatever was thrown your way. Like CJ had once said, one day at a time.

In his sleep, your boyfriend reached out for you and pulled you in closer to him, snuggling into your side and burrowing into your neck, making you smile.

And to think, you almost hadn’t made that call. You laid your head against CJ’s and closed your eyes. You were so glad you did.

A/N: Please let me know what you think. 😊

#cj braxton x reader #cj braxton x female reader #cj braxton x you #cj braxton x y/n #cj braxton #dawson's creek fanfiction #dawson's creek #prompt response #dawson's creek fandom #cj braxton x female!collegestudent!reader #female!collegestudent!reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles character #cj braxton fanfiction #thebiggerbear writing

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lottesreads · 3 months

Text

Why Me? - Part 9

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, talk about sex, mentions of abuse, pining, forbidden relationship, jealousy, self-doubt, Hangman being a menace, talk of death, mentions of exes

Word Count: 9k (It's worth it, I promise)

Summary: After a chat with your dad, you're feeling a little better about your family situation. You still get the feeling you're being watched and try your hardest to be on your best behavior. And the time finally comes for Bob to meet Emily.

A/N: I wrote the last bit to this part MONTHS ago and I'm so excited to finally share it with y'all. Again, love the likes, comments and reblogs make me cry happy tears and I love you all!

Also, special shoutout to Tonya Harding anon, whose reaction I am always excited to see when I post. Anyway, enjoy!!

Masterlist

Bob was an idiot. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself as he drove home to Sylvia. Of course you would want him to go out on a date, or whatever this was. You are his friend, and friends want each other to be happy. Except, Bob knows he won’t be happy with Rachel’s friend, whatever her name was. Even as he unlocks his front door and is greeted with Sylvia running toward him, he still can’t help but feel a little sad over the thought of you. You’ve been on his mind every day since he first laid eyes on you, and he knew even then you were too good for him. There was a moment today, as he held your hand he felt the courage to say something. He wasn’t sure exactly what he would have said, but you make him feel scared and brave all at the same time. It’s hard to explain, but who would he have to explain it to anyway?

Even as he’s brushing his teeth, his thoughts wander as they usually do to you. The way your eyes light up when you give him a real smile. Not the fake ones you’ve been sporting lately. The way you were so gentle with him, and every time your hands found each others it felt so natural. So right.

Clad in just his boxers, Bob slips beneath the sheets of his bed as he sets his glasses on his nightstand. And even though he knows it’s a hard habit to break, when Sylvia jumps up to join him he doesn’t push her away. He welcomes the comfort, patting the spot next to him as she circles once, plopping down against his side once she’s sure she’s found the right spot.

The warmth takes his mind back to the night he spent in your bed. How even in your drunken state your hand was able to find his heart so easily. You didn’t need a hand to do that, though. Somehow through all of his attempts to avoid having to look at you longer than he had to, you had already found it. He could tell the minute his heart started pounding out of his chest the first time he saw you that you would get there easier than anyone else had, or probably ever will.

His eyes grow tired, and as he turns his head he can almost make out the shape of your face, your eyes reappearing underneath your lashes. A soft smile creeping from your plush lips as you stare back. Bob is quite sure he’s dreaming now as the lingering floral scent of your shampoo clouds his senses. As much as he wishes it was, it doesn’t feel real as he kisses your forehead. He can’t move, he knows if he takes any more liberties in this dream it will slip out of his fingers just like they all have before. If Bob can be with you in any way he knows it will only be in his dreams. And as much as it hurts to wake up and realize it’s not real, and there’s no way you would want him, he still allows himself to relish the moments where his brain tricks him into thinking you do. He’ll take the hurt of waking up as reality crushes his spirit just for the chance to know you in his sleep.

And now his mind remembers what it feels like to have your hands caress his face, cradle his jaw, and trace over his lips. The rushed way your lips met his cheek. Closing his eyes he can pause the memory, smell your perfume, know the way your kiss felt against his face. Your touch will fuel his dreams for years to come. He knows this to be the heartwrenching truth as the thought of you brings him to a deep sleep.

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

The drive is silent, and yet you still take the long way home. The day is finally catching up to you as you park your car in the driveway, opting to just sit in the driver’s seat, staring at the steering wheel. It’s still the same shitty little car you bought when you were 17, the heater doesn’t work, but you figured you don’t need it in San Diego. And the battery’s a little finicky, but you just keep telling yourself you’ll get a new one when you have the time. Whenever you’re not falling for people you can’t have or punching your brother- teammate. You swiftly correct yourself. If he wants a relationship that’s the only one he’s going to get from you.

You don’t even know how long you’ve been sitting in your car, contemplating your existence before you’re walking to the front door, head held low. Your brain is on autopilot, the rest of your body following. The light in the kitchen doesn’t even phase you as you lock the front door behind you, running a hand down your face as you lean against the door.

“I was wondering when you’d get home”, your head shoots up in the direction of your father’s voice coming from the kitchen table, startling you.

“Jesus christ”, you let out.

“I got back to the bar and they all told me you already left, so how did I beat you here?” Folding his arms across his chest, he raises a brow for you to answer.

“I just needed to clear my head, go for a drive.” You shrug. He hums in acknowledgement, holding your gaze, as if waiting for you to go on. His eyes fall to your hand as you rub at your forehead. “Well, I think I’m just gonna go to bed-”

“Were you going to tell me what happened to your hand?” A shaky breath leaves your body as you look down to the fading bruise, it’s a wonder he was able to see it at all anymore.

“You never asked.”

“I never noticed.” He counters.

“And whose fault is that?” You bite back. He’s at a visible loss for words as you move to the stairs, taking a few steps toward your room, “Like I told Penny, I slammed it in my car door.”

“Oh c’mon”, the slightly raised level of his voice stops you in your tracks, “Cut the crap kid. Tell me the truth.” You turn to face him as he stands, just so tired with the day and the same old bullshit you’ve been trying to swim through.

“Seems like you already know the truth, so why does it matter if I tell you?”

“Because you keep lying to me!” You know he’s not just talking about covering up what Rooster said. There’s a deep frustration within his words that goes back to when you were a kid. Lying about how you got those bruises around your wrists, even the lie you kept up for four years while you attended the academy.

“Dad, please, I really don’t feel like talking right now-“

“No. You keep avoiding me, and we’re having a conversation. Now.” It’s your turn to beg as your lip begins to wobble.

“I’ve already had a rough day and I just want to go to sleep, please dad.”

“What’s wrong?”, he asks with a much gentler tone.

“It’s nothing”, you respond, fiddling with your thumb instead of staring back at him. Sighing, he shakes his head at the ground.

“Please. Just tell me the truth. Talk to me bug.” The nickname falls softly from his lips, even if it is hard for him to say. Truth be told, he couldn’t bring himself to call you that after Carole died, he didn’t want to encroach on the Bradshaw’s nickname for you. He knows you’ve worked hard to become the independent woman that you are today, but right now all he can see is his little girl standing at the top of the stairs. It brings back memories of you as a kid, blanket in hand, waking up from a scary dream. In those instances you’d wipe at your tear-stained cheeks and tired eyes, clinging to your dad. Your eyes look tired now, just not due to lack of sleep anymore.

“There’s just a lot going on right now”, you mutter.

“You don’t have to tell me everything… I just want to make sure you’re ok, kid.” You nod at his words. There is a lot going on in your mind right now. The most recent thing involves something or rather someone you would never in a million years tell your dad about, so your mind wanders back to the root of how you got here. Why you’ve been feeling inadequate in comparison to the person who turned his back on you, not even giving you the decency to watch as he left you to drown.

“What do I have to do for you to see me the same way you do Bradley?” Your father’s shoulders visibly slump as he blinks up at you.

“It’s like he can do no wrong in your eyes. And I kind of get it. I mean he’s the product of two people you loved very much, and I… I was an accident”, Damn it. You are so sick of crying, but you try to swallow the frog in your throat to delay it anyway you can, “A regret you’re forced to live with every single day.” You’re picking at your nails again, heart beating so loud in your ears you don’t hear your dad get closer until his arms are wrapped around you. The two of you sink to take a seat on the stairs you were all too eager to run up only a minute ago. The second his arms reach around your shoulders, the tears start falling from your lash line, and you try your best to muffle your sniffling through his jacket.

“Hey, who told you that?” he gently asks, running his hand over your head in an attempt to soothe you.

“Who do you think?”, you mumble back, defeated. He sighs as he sets both hands gently on your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him.

“How could I regret you when you are the one thing that I am most proud of in my life? Huh? Screw every title and trophy, being called your dad is the greatest achievement I will ever receive.” His green eyes don’t tear away from your own, driving the sincerity of his words right through your heart.

“Do you understand that?” Nodding, you move to rest your head on his shoulder while he rubs your arm.

“And about Bradley… There’s a lot that boy has and will do wrong. I was just surprised that after- hell, sixteen years he wanted a relationship with me again. I didn’t see that I was hurting you, and sweetheart, I am so sorry.”

“I thought you died, you know”, you whisper. “I thought you both did.” He holds you tighter at your remark. The harrowing moments on the Uranium mission when you had to sit in your F-18, listening to your teammates scream that your dad, and then Rooster of all people had gone down haunt your memories. Take up space that could otherwise be filled with anything else. “I was ready to forgive him. Almost losing the two of you for good made me realize I missed him more than I hated him. And now-”, you take in a deep breath, your dad going back to rubbing up and down your arm.

“You know, Goose was my brother. Blood be damned. I miss him and Carole every single day. I see them both in Bradley, but this anger- I know that comes from years of hatred and resentment he harbored towards me. I’m sorry you got caught in the crossfire of all of that.”

“He did apologize to me. Multiple times. I just don’t know if this is something that I can forgive him for.” Your dad hums and gives you a nod, moving to stroke your head again.

“You don’t have to decide that right now. I think it’s up to him to show you if he really means it, and in the meantime you can let your old man try to knock some sense into him.” You huff out a small laugh through your nose.

“Has he said anything to you?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“Yeah, we had a little talk on Sunday.” Furrowing your brows, you move your head to look back at his face.

“What did you say?” “Nothing that he didn’t need to hear. Someone had to remind him that’s not how you treat people, let alone your family.” You inwardly cringe at his use of the word. You know Rooster doesn’t have many blood-relatives left. A couple cousins on his mom’s side, but they’re all older and already have families of their own. You guess, in a sense, you are the only family he has left.

“I already punched him”, you mutter. Sighing once more, he turns and places a kiss to the very top of your head.

“I know you did, kid. Thanks for telling me.” You sit on the stairs a little longer, the relief of talking to him lifting a weight off of your chest. Until he speaks up again.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to lie to me anymore, ok?”, you nod against his shoulder. “Is there anything else bothering you?” And even though you just practically told him you would tell him the truth, this is one thing you know you cannot and will not divulge to him.

“No.”

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

You’re a little nervous for work the next day. There’s not a doubt in your mind that you did the right thing by telling Bob to go on that date or whatever it is, and you’ll stick by that decision. But now you have people watching you. Rooster, even as you walk into the ready-room while Hangman, Payback, and Fanboy suit up to take to the skies, is already watching as you move to take a seat on the couch, noticeably across from Bob instead of next to him and Phoenix.

Bob looks up almost immediately as you sit, and sends a small smile your way. You do the same to him and it almost feels like before. Just pleasantries, even if you are excited to see him. God, Rooster was going to ruin your life. You’re pointedly avoiding his gaze even though you know he’s still watching. This is ok, though. You’re just going to follow Cyclone’s advice and do your job. That’s what you’re here to do.

Once the first group is done with their exercises, it’s your turn to head out along with Rooster. Your dad was adamant he was not the one who set up the pairs this time, and you immediately know this was a direct order from Cyclone. A test.

The object is to use the evasive maneuvers you’ve been practicing to avoid one Pete “Maverick” Mitchell from shooting you down. You’re walking to your jet when a voice stops you in your tracks.

“Mantis!”, Rooster calls out. You turn, holding your head high as he catches up to you. “We got this, right?” You eye his helmet as he holds it out to you. And as if the action summoned the beast himself, over Rooster’s shoulder you notice Cyclone standing in the hangar, shoulders squared as he watches the two of you get ready for takeoff. Looking back to Rooster, you knock your helmet into his.

“Right.” He nods once, trying to hide his surprise at your willingness.

Waiting in the air for your dad to make an appearance is like waiting in the eye of a storm. You know it’s coming, you just have to wait for it to pass over before all hell breaks loose.

“You see him yet?”, you ask, breaking the silence that has since formed after taking off.

“Not yet, but keep your eyes peeled, he likes to sneak up from below.” If there’s anything you know about your father, it’s that he doesn’t like to use the same tricks twice. Which is why when you look up, you’re not at all surprised at Maverick’s jet flying just above the two of you, nose diving the slightest bit as if he thinks he can catch you off guard.

“Bogie’s right above us, coming in hot, break right Rooster.” He does as you say while you break left, and your dad is left scrambling as his attempt to dive between the two of you is foiled. The two of you successfully evade Maverick for the time being, but when you’re left right next to each other and Maverick’s coming back around, you know he has to choose one of you to “shoot down”, and you know he won’t be choosing you.

“He’s coming back around Mantis”, Rooster warns. You eye his jet coming up from behind this time.

“He’s gonna go after you. When I tell you to, break left.” You watch his speed steadily increase as he gets closer and closer to the two of you, your hand twitching on the yoke of your jet. “Now Rooster!” He does as you say, and just like you planned it, Maverick follows him. Their jets fall as they get closer to the Hard Deck, and you watch Rooster start to climb back up.

“I’m leading him to you Mantis, heads up!” You follow their jets from above, waiting for Rooster to lead Maverick into your trap, and before you know it, they’re both in front of you, the shrill sound of catching tone on your dad ringing in both of your cockpits.

“Tone!”, you exclaim, “You’re out Mav.” You can’t help the smile that forms on your face, even as you make your way out of the cockpit. Once you land, Rooster is waiting for you with the same look on his face.

“Now that's what I’m talking about, Mantis!”, he offers his hand in high five as the two of you walk off the tarmac, and as the adrenaline from beating your father makes its way through your veins, you take him up on the offer, slapping your hand against his.

The rest of the team in the ready-room starts clapping as the two of you walk back in. As if defeating Maverick was one of the hardest things you’d have to do. You laugh as you tap your fist against Coyote’s, the others patting you and Rooster on the back. Bob’s standing at the couch, still clapping for you as he gives you a wider smile, a seemingly proud look in his eye, like he had no doubt you could do it. You smile right back, getting the feeling he had the confidence you could the entire time.

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

When lunch rolls around the adrenaline has since worn off, leaving you a little tired. You drag yourself into the mess-hall and spot Bob at your usual table in the crowd. You hate that your head perks up at the sight, and even if you were stuck a moment ago, your feet move in his direction. You greet him with a smile, and your heart melts as he moves his lunch bag off of the seat he saved just for you. Taking a breath of relief at the routine, you take a seat. A weight is lifted off of your shoulders, Bob is a friend, a great one at that, and you don’t want to do anything to risk that. Even if you long for more, and you get butterflies every time his hand touches yours, or he gives you that same crooked smile, you just want to be around him.

“Hey, nice job today”, he says as he starts to unpack his lunch.

“Thank you. Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t ask this morning, but how’s your nose?” He makes a move to touch the bridge of his nose, feeling for any sort of tenderness.

“Oh, it’s fine. I think bein’ out in the sun all day just dried me out. Made it look worse than it actually was.”

“Well hopefully we won’t need to have another mandated beach day. And maybe next time you’ll drink more water”, you comment, raising your brow at him.

“Ok”, he laughs, “I was a little distracted, next time I’ll make sure I’m chuggin’ water.” You furrow your brow with a smile as he digs into his lunch.

“What got you so distracted you forgot to drink water?” He swallows the bit of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich he just took a bite of, trying and failing to avoid your gaze.

“Oh, um-” The sound of Phoenix pulling out a chair at the table saves him from answering, as you look back to your friend. She offers you a high five and you’re quick to take it from her.

“Helluva job today, Mantis”, she says with a smirk.

“Thanks, what can I say? I am too good”, you joke as she rolls her eyes, Bob chuckling next to you.

“If you keep quoting that Texas Ken doll, you are not coming to my house on Saturday.” She says as she points her fork in your direction. Putting your hands up in a mock surrender, she switches the subject.

“Speaking of… Bob”, his head perks up, “Rachel’s excited for you to meet Emily.” Your eyes slowly flit to Bob, gauging his reaction. He swallows again before responding, if you thought any better you’d think he was nervous.

“What have you told Emily about me?”

“Just that you’re a really good friend, cute, and sweet. You know, the basics.” He lets out a light scoff.

“Yeah, well, don’t get her hopes up, too much.” At his words you lightly tap his shoulder with the back of your hand.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, you ask.

“C’mon”, he looks to you and back to Phoenix, “You tell a girl you’re settin’ her up with one of your Navy buddies and she’ll expect someone like that Texas Ken doll. Not… me.”

“Bob”, you start, almost placing a hand atop his, but ultimately deciding to land on his shoulder, “I’ve met a ton of meatheads during my time in the Navy, but you are a breath of fresh air in an otherwise tainted climate. You hear me?” His eyelashes flutter as he blinks at you. Taking a deep breath in his eyes land back on Phoenix who gives him an encouraging smile.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Phoenix’s phone starts ringing, and she smiles wider as she takes it out of her pocket, “It’s Rachel, I’ll be right back.” You go back to your food as Bob does his, or at least you try to. It’s so stupid. He’s not even yours and the thought of him seeing another woman makes your stomach ache.

“Do you really think this is a good idea?”, his ocean eyes are riddled with worry as you look back at him.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”, you ask, your voice a little softer. He simply shrugs, staring back at his large hands.

“Setups like this usually don’t work out for me… They’re always expecting someone I’m not.” Your heart falls at the dejectedness in his voice. You can tell he’s had his heart broken many times after Mandy Harrison, and he doesn’t expect it to stop happening.

“Bob-”, you quickly stop yourself before calling him Bobby, “That just means those people weren’t right for you. And so what? You’ve taken chances before, that just means you’re open to the possibilities.”

“What possibilities? Feelin’ like a fool again?”

“The possibility of finding happiness in another person.” He stops arguing for a second, and again, it’s just the two of you. The table vacated except for you and Bob, your heart pounding in your head, taking over your every thought. “I don’t think wanting to be happy makes you a fool. It makes you human. And if taking this chance means you and another person end up happy, why not risk it? Who is it hurting?” You resist the urge to answer your own question. You. It’s hurting you.

“Nobody. I guess”, he responds, almost under his breath. It makes you want to double over in pain, but you resist and give him a small smile, eyeing the freckle just below his hairline as he focuses back on his lunch. He doesn’t actually eat any of it, just keeps picking up the same carrot and putting it back down until Phoenix comes back.

“Ok, well. We’re figuring out food so I need an official headcount. I know the two of you are coming, but are you still sure you want me to invite Rooster?” You’re snapped back to reality, finding Rooster across the room, eating alone again. The team still hasn’t let him back in quite yet, and while you’re thankful for the comradery, he is still a part of the squadron.

“Yeah, it’s fine”, you nod as she eyes you warily.

“Ok, I can’t promise it won’t be awkward…”, she warns.

“It’s always going to be awkward. Might as well face it head on.”

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

You’ve been to Phoenix’s cozy bungalow a few times since being reassigned, and even though the two of you have grown a lot since bunking together at the Academy, she was still the same messy roommate you knew and loved her to be. Which is why when you show up a little early to help her set stuff up on Saturday evening, you’re surprised to see it’s already tidied up, no real additional cleaning required.

“Wow”, you remark as you step foot in the kitchen, “Are you sure I’m at the right address? This is too clean to be your place.” Stopping her motions as she chops up some fruit, she fixes you with a fake glare.

“Oh haha. You here to crack jokes or help me out?” You move to step around the counter, but a screech from behind you stops you in your path.

“Mantis!” Rachel squeals, reaching to give you a hug, “I’m so happy you’re here!”

“I’m so happy to be here!”, you respond in the same cadence, still a little surprised at her excitement.

“This is gonna be so much fun, I can’t wait to meet everyone else!”, she practically bounces on her feet, ginger locks swaying with her. You turn back to help Phoenix, clocking the lovestruck look on her face as she stares at her girlfriend.

“Who else have you met?”, you ask, starting to chop up fruit alongside Phoenix.

“Oh let’s see, you and Bob of course, we ran into Payback and his family at the beach, and then Rooster. But Nat tells me we’re mad at him right now?”, she cocks her head to the side, checking with her girlfriend if that’s still the case. Natasha nods, plating her already sliced strawberries.

“That’s right, but tonight we’re offering him an opportunity to redeem himself”, she responds, looking back at you. A knock comes from the door and Rachel excuses herself to answer it, leaving you and Phoenix in the kitchen. “You sure you’re gonna be alright with him here?” The voice in the back of your head tells you it’s not being around him you’re worried about, it’s being around-

“Bob!”, Rachel exclaims, “I’m so happy you’re here!” Your head shoots up to the entrance of the kitchen as Bob follows Rachel in. Your eyes are drawn to his clean-shaven face, then down to the strain of his forearm beneath the rolled up flannel he dons. A case of Dr. Pepper is clutched in his hands as he greets you and Phoenix, moving to place it in the fridge.

“You really didn’t have to bring anything”, she complains.

“I know, but mama told me to never show up to a party empty-handed.” Catching each other’s eyes, you give him a smile and turn back to your task at hand.

Before long, people are showing up, and Bob is whisked off to help rearrange some furniture to create more room for the influx of people. You’re talking to Payback, Fanboy and Bob just off to the side, when Rooster enters through the front door, a 12-pack of beer in hand that he hands off to Rachel as she greets him, noticeably without a hug. You watch as Phoenix approaches him, hands on her hips as he nods at what she’s telling him. From the way he’s attentively listening to her, you can tell she’s giving him a rundown of what she expects from him. You can make out the last of their conversation as her lips move, asking if he “got that?” He only nods in response, and you quietly smirk to yourself.

You’re talking to Fanboy now, Bob still hanging just to the right of you with Payback when you hear that same squeal from Rachel, only this time your stomach drops as she greets her friend.

“Emily!”, your eyes turn and find a stunning blonde woman hugging Rachel. You can’t help but gaze at her figure, her beautiful face and feel a little jealous. Turning back to Fanboy, you catch Bob looking your way through the corner of your eye, figuring he’s trying to get a look at Emily but you’re in the way.

“Bob!”, Phoenix calls out. You turn to find her dragging Emily over to your small group in the corner of the living room. He sets his can of Dr. Pepper on a coaster, before wiping the condensation off on his jeans. “This is Emily, Emily, this is Bob.”

“Nice to meet ya’”, he says, offering a handshake which she takes. You watch his hand engulf hers and have to tear your eyes away. It’s so stupid, but that’s the same hand that has wiped your tears away, gently comforted you, and you don’t want to be, but you’re jealous that it isn’t your hand he’s holding right now. She moves on, introducing her to the rest of the group, and you give her a polite smile and your name.

“Or you can call me Mantis”, you offer.

“Nice to meet you all”, she gives with a gorgeous smile. “Wait, Bob, what’s your call-sign?”

“Oh, it’s just Bob”, he responds with a nervous look on his face.

“Oh”, she laughs. You furrow your brows, glancing at Bob whose face is now red with embarrassment. You’re about to speak up for him, but Emily is already calling out for someone before you’re able to. “Rooster!” All of your heads turn as Rooster makes his way over, Emily immediately jumping to give him a hug.

“Wait”, you turn to Phoenix, “Do those two know each other?”

“Kind of, they met when I introduced Rooster to Rachel. It was actually his idea to set her up with Bob.” And then she takes a swig of her drink like she didn’t just drop a bomb on you. Your gaze hardens as you slowly turn back and see Emily running her hand down Rooster’s arm. That sneaky bastard had a master plan this entire time. His hazel eyes make contact with your own as you squint. He swallows and turns back to Emily who is still trying to hold his attention.

Once everyone arrives and settles in with a drink or two, a most wonderful idea to play “Never Have I Ever” is suggested by Hangman. Who has decided he’s the ringmaster of the entire party now. A few tame questions are asked, drinks are drunk, and then he has to open his stupid mouth, “Ok, never have I ever played spin the bottle.” You look around the room, leaving your drink in your hands, as pretty much everyone else takes a swig. Including Bob, who looks quite uninterested in his “date” talking Rooster’s ear off on the other side of her.

“Whoa, whoa whoa”, Hangman directs towards you, “You’re telling me you’ve never played spin the bottle?”

“Nope, but I’m not at all surprised you have.” You bite back, almost taking a swig of your drink before remembering the point of the game. Choosing to pick at the label instead.

“Alright, new game idea!” Hangman announces.

“We are NOT playing spin the bottle, this isn’t a 14-year old’s birthday party.”

“Fine then, who’s up for truth or dare?” He asks the room, eyes never leaving yours. You squint at him, suspicious of his intentions like always, as everyone else agrees to his plot. “I’ll go first”, he so graciously offers, “Mantis, truth or dare?”

“Truth”, you immediately respond, not giving him the chance to dare you what you think he’ll try to.

“You’re no fun”, he says rolling his eyes, “Fine, when was the last time you got laid?” He so casually asks as you just about spit out your drink, shock overtaking your features.

“Jesus Christ” You hear Rooster from next to Emily.

“That’s a little hard-hitting right out the gate, don’t you think?” Fanboy pipes up from across the room, still a hint of intrigue in his voice.

“It’s all part of the game, Mick. Besides, we’re adults, we’ve all had sex before. Right Mantis?” He asks, turning to you with his head tilted, as if trying to goad a response out of you. Scoffing, you glance across the room, taking note of everyone paying attention to what you have to say. Except for Rooster, who is really trying not to focus on the game right now.

“If you’re trying to insinuate something I suggest you come out and say it”, you respond, squaring your shoulders, daring him as he shrugs in your direction.

“All I’m saying is that since I’ve known you-

“A couple months” You interrupt.

“3, almost 4 months” he quickly adds, ”In that time I haven’t seen you leave the Hard Deck with anybody except good ‘ole baby on board over here. And we all know that ain’t gonna happen.” Hangman’s thumb hooks in Bob’s direction where you notice he’s begun to trace the rim on his can of soda, not giving Emily his attention while she attempts to whisper something in Rooster’s ear. You turn back to Hangman’s smug grin as he takes a swig of his own beer.

“Fine”, you relent, “You really wanna know?” His brows raise a single time, daring you to go on.

“I’m all ears”, he says, showcasing his stark white teeth as he leans back in his seat. And even though you know it’s not just Hangman listening, you’re not about to back down from a challenge. Even if it will absolutely embarass you in front of your team.

“It’s been a couple years”, You offer, immediately taking a drink so as to not meet anyone’s eyes.

“How long is a couple?” You clench your teeth, rolling your eyes until you’re staring at Hangman again.

“Five”, you mutter through your teeth, hoping he’s the only one who will hear you.

“Come again?” “It’s been 5 years” you finally confess loud enough for everyone to hear. Common looks of wide eyes and quiet whispers are shared as Phoenix gives you a knowing look. One that says, “I know exactly who the last person you slept with was.” You fix her with a stern gaze, deterring her from saying anything to you on the matter.

“Oh I heard you the first time, I was asking when you were gonna come again.” Phoenix throws a pillow at him from across the room as he laughs at his own joke.

“Alright, I need another drink” you huff out as you get up and walk into the kitchen. You can still hear the cacophony that is the dagger squad from behind the wall, but continue to look for something else to drink. Maybe something a little stronger that will help you get through the night.

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

Bob excuses himself from Emily, not even checking back to see if she heard him as he leaves the game in hopes of catching you in the kitchen. He finds you with your back toward him, fridge door open as you examine what it has to offer. He sidles up next to you, mirroring your stance of leaning on the counter behind the two of you. You have yet to say anything as he reaches into his front pocket, procuring a penny, and sliding it across the counter to your resting hand.

You smile slightly at the sound of the coin across the counter top, and finally at the feel of Bob nudging it underneath your fingertips. You sigh and look back to the fridge, Bob thinks you’re going to let it slide until you respond.

“It’s kind of embarrassing. To admit that I haven’t.. Been with anyone in a while. It’s just that I- I haven’t met anyone since that I’ve trusted enough to- do that with, I guess.”

“Why would that be embarrassing?”, he broaches the subject even as his face begins to flush a shade of pink. You huff a breath out through your nose as you begin to fiddle with the penny, smoothing the now warm object in between your fingers.

“I don’t know, I just thought by the time I reached this age I would have actually been in a meaningful relationship. Or at least had more experience to tell for it”, you hide the last sentence under a small laugh as Bob looks down at his feet. To be honest, Bob is kind of surprised you haven’t been in a relationship in that long. You are absolutely beautiful, funny, and smart, and anybody would be lucky to have you. But he isn’t about to add fuel to the fire that is your own insecurities by questioning something you’ve probably been wondering for a while.

“And it’s the same everywhere I get stationed. Just egotistical men who only want the bragging rights of fucking a captain’s daughter. Like that’s all I am to them. Not an aviator, not an officer, not a person… Just something they can use to show off as an achievement.”

There’s still noise coming from the other room, but it’s quiet between the two of you. Just the hum of the refrigerator as Bob tries to gather the words from being angry at these so-called men, or apologetic to the fact that you feel embarrassed about something you have no right to be embarrassed about.

“I think that it’s good to listen to yourself, and if you haven’t found someone you feel comfortable enough sharing that part of you with, then you shouldn’t be embarrassed. And those other guys are completely stupid if they don’t see the talented aviator and amazing person that you are.” You look back at Bob, wondering how he’s only a year older than you but so much wiser. “You are so much more than your dad. I hope you see that.”

“Thanks, Bobby”, you can’t help but let the nickname slip from your lips. There’s a moment where it’s just the two of you in the small kitchen, hidden away from all the chaos that’s taking place in the other room. Until it proves too much for you and you break his gaze, clearing your throat.

“I just don’t know where Hangman gets off, asking a question like that.” Bob offers.

“Well apparently he’s getting off a lot more than I am”, you respond as Bob gives you a laugh. The skin around his eyes starts to crinkle and that’s when you know he’s actually laughing, not just trying to be nice.

“We all know he is, but I’m not so sure about his partners…” he tapers off.

“Oh my god”, you start laughing.

“Bob”, the both of you turn at Phoenix’s voice coming from the doorway, “Emily’s asking for you.”

“I highly doubt that”, Bob mutters under his breath as he turns to walk back to the living room. Phoenix stays behind as you slip the penny in your pocket, and open the fridge back up to grab a can of Dr. Pepper.

“Hey, you ok?” She asks you softly. You turn as you crack open the can, giving her a small smile.

“I’m fine, just don’t want to go back out there and have to sit through a round of truth or dare.”

“Listen, Hangman’s an idiot. And if you want to avoid any further probing I suggest choosing dare. The worst thing they're having people do is show each other’s camera roll or take a shot.” You don’t even remember the last photo you took, probably of some sunset. And you wouldn’t be totally opposed if someone had you take a shot right now. “Was the last person you were with really Lieutenant Douchebag?” You laugh at the nickname for your previous boyfriend, lovingly given to him by Phoenix, then immediately shudder at the thought.

“Yep”, you respond, taking a swig of the soda, regretting your decision to not grab something with alcohol in it. She grimaces, taking a breath in.

“You need to get laid”, she casually tells you as she grabs another drink for herself and Rachel.

“Jesus”, you laugh at her cavalier attitude, “How about we take a night and not talk about my sex life.”

“From the sounds of it, it doesn't seem like you have one” You scoff then laugh as she smiles at you. At times like this you’re grateful you met her when you did. She saved you from having a lot of lonely nights to yourself, introduced you to what a friend should and could be. “What, too far?”

“Not from you it isn’t”

As soon as you emerge from the kitchen, trailing behind Phoenix you see Bob locked in a conversation with Emily. Rooster now sits on the other side of Bob, happy from the sudden reprieve of not sharing the other man's “date”. She’s obviously trying to hook Rooster back into the conversation as Bob remains polite by listening to whatever she’s saying. You take a seat around the coffee table, staring at Bob crack a slight smile as you hear someone call out your name.

“Mantis, truth or dare?”

“Dare” It was a knee-jerk reaction, truly. Just based on Phoenix’s reasoning, it was the only response you could come up with. Ultimately, as you turn your head to the person who asked, you realize it was the wrong answer.

Your eyes grow wide as Hangman’s own stare you down, a smirk forming on his face once he realizes the power he wields over you. His eyes turn into slits, like a snake who’s finally cornered its prey.

“Oh I am going to have so much fun with this”, he responds, victorious. He grabs his bottle of beer, downing the rest of it as he makes his way to the coffee table in the middle of the room. You’re sitting on the floor in front of the t.v., as Hangman finishes his drink and ever so slowly hands you the now empty bottle.

“Now I know you’ve never played before '', you immediately cringe, resting your forehead against your denim-clad knee and let out a groan. You hear laughter sound out from around you as Coyote playfully nudges your shoulder, “So let me explain the rules. You’re gonna spin the bottle, and then you get to kiss the lucky person the neck points to.”

“You could have just dared me to kiss you if you want it that badly bagman”, you say as you move to your knees to place the bottle on the surface of the table.

“That’s just plain against the rules, and it’s not about who you kiss. I just wanna watch you squirm a little bit.” He leans back in his seat as you glance around the room, just to see who your future lips will be locking with. You make eye contact with Rooster and give him your best glare. He scratches the back of his neck and stands without wasting another second.

“I’m gonna go get another drink”, he announces while stepping over people who have begun to sit on the floor around the table.

“Oh!” Emily pipes up, “I’ll come with you!” You catch Bob watching the two of them leave the room and your heart sinks a little. You can’t help but feel a little jealous at the attention he’s been giving her, but at the same time you want someone to see him the way you do. It’s just unfair that the only person you’ve felt this way about in a very long time, happens to be the one person you’re not allowed to pursue. He’s an amazing person, and Emily would be crazy not to see what Phoenix, or Rooster, practically shoved right in front of her. You’re really starting to hate Rooster for playing with Bob’s feelings. It may be unintentional, but the reason he wanted to set him up in the first place wasn’t out of the pure kindness of his heart.

You spare another glance around the room watching as everyone tries to take up as much space as possible, making you think they’re a little too eager to kiss you. Except, it wasn’t the fact they could kiss you, it was the idea that they could brag about kissing Mav’s daughter. Just like you explained to Bob, it’s the same everywhere you go. You just thought by now it would have worn off with this group.

“Just so you know guys, if you kiss me you’re practically kissing my dad”, you tease as some of the guys grimace. A slight smirk crawls its way to your face as Omaha gets up from off the floor.

“You just ruined it for me”, he complains. Unfortunately it only thins the crowd out a little, a couple of gaps in the group that now surround the table.

Taking a deep breath you finally place your hand back on the bottle, pulling it back before spinning it. Your heart beats a little faster out of pure embarrassment as you stare intently at the bottle spinning, not wanting to look up at the faces around you until it finally… stops.

“Ho-ly shit”, Hangman lets out, so obviously amused with the outcome. “Baby on board’s about to get his first kiss.” Your eyes immediately turn to Hangman, then to Bob’s, who bears the same look of shock you know you’re not doing a great job at hiding.

“I-” the words get caught in your throat. You hate what you’re about to do as you turn back to Hangman. “Come on.” All eyes are on you as you begin to beg this man not to make you go through with it. Because once you do, you know there’s no turning back.

“C’mon what?”, he asks with intrigue.

“He’s here to meet someone, I don’t think this is a good idea”, you try to reason with him.

“That’s not really how the game works sweetheart. You spun the bottle, now you gotta deal with the consequences.”

“Hangman, please”, you beg, avoiding every gaze in the room as they begin to talk among themselves, bored with whatever show you’re putting on. His brow furrows as he realizes just how badly you do not want to do this.

“Who’d it land on?” Rooster asks as he emerges from the kitchen with a fresh drink, Emily in tow. Taking a swig, his eyes follow where the bottle points directly to Bob. “No, that’s not happening”, he mutters as he gets closer to Hangman.

“What is with you two? It’s just a game.” He replies incredulously. He glances back around the room and finds Emily awkwardly waiting at the back for Rooster’s conversation to be over. “Alright, you”, he points at her, “To level the playing field, why don’t you take a crack at it? If Emily agrees to it, then you do, too.”

“I never agreed to-”

“Ok!”, she responds a little too eager. You’re still on your knees as a confused look washes over your face. She kneels across from you at the table and barely touches the bottle, you don’t even think you’d consider it a spin, until it lands on Rooster. You’re not trying to hide the grimace on your face as she tries to play innocent.

“Oops, well it looks like it’s you and me Rooster.” Emily stands, immediately placing both hands on Rooster’s shoulders as she gives him a generous kiss. A couple of whistles are thrown out as she continues to lock lips with him, something he does not appear to be displeased with, as much as he was caught off guard to begin with.

You look away in disgust, trying and failing not to make a noise to match your mood. Your eyes fall to where Bob was just seated moments before, but his chair is empty. He’s nowhere in the room, soda abandoned. And as Emily continues sticking her tongue down Rooster’s throat, you sneak past the few hollers to slip out the back door near the kitchen.

It’s completely dark now, only the moon and strings of fairy lights casting a soft glow across the yard. You find Bob standing in the grass with his arms folded across his chest, staring up at the sky. His flannel is still rolled up to his elbows, forearms proudly on display. The moonlight reflects off of his glasses, but you can still see the turmoil swirling behind his frames. The sound of the door sliding shut doesn’t deter Bob from moving from his position.

“There you are, I was worried you left the premises”, you try to joke, moving to stand closer. He turns, only giving you a slight glance. It stops you from moving forward anymore, deciding to stay back at the edge of the patio. Humming in acknowledgement, he stares back up at the sky, face contorting as if it pains him to do so.

“Nah, just needed some fresh air is all. What are you doin’ out here?”, he asks in an indifferent tone. You tear your eyes away from the sky to look over at him again. He huffs out a sigh as you retreat your gaze to your feet, toying with a loose piece of cement.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry”, you offer. He gives a small laugh as he turns his face to look at the grass beneath his shoes.

“For what?”

“Emily’s a complete idiot.” He releases a breath out of his nose, moving his gaze to the fence bordering the neighbor’s yard.

“It’s fine, I’m used to it.” You can still tell he’s upset by the way he squares his jaw.

“Well you shouldn’t be.”

“Well I am”, he lets out a little more stern this time. “I just- I don’t know Mantis.”

“What?”, you ask him quietly as he begins to shuffle the grass underneath his feet.

“I know that I’m not wanted, or not attractive like the other guys in there. But tonight really solidified that for me.” Your heart breaks as you watch him sort his thoughts out.

“Bob, that’s not true-”

“It is, though. I didn’t even want to come here tonight, and you knew that. And- and Phoenix knew it, too. But still, you two pushed me to come and meet Emily. Someone she insisted was perfect for me. Well, she took one look at Rooster and saw what everyone else sees. There are a million more guys out there who are better looking, better at making conversation, better at… everything than me.” His voice is dejected, believing everything he’s telling you. But you let him continue, even if you want to contradict every word that continues to fall from his mouth.

“And I hate the fact that I wasn’t even interested in meeting someone new. That I’m already thinkin’ about someone else most of the time, and she doesn’t even see me in that way, even if she could.” Your heart tightens in your chest, at first due to the fact that Bob has feelings for someone else. And then it hits you. ‘If she could’.

“Wait, Bob-” you manage to breathe out before he interrupts you.

“It’s just- I haven’t felt this way about someone since, well, ever.” He turns, facing you fully, a glassy look in his eyes as he stares at you, exasperated. “I feel so connected, and drawn to you Mantis.” He confesses in a whisper. You feel it the moment your heartbeat quickens with your breathing. The way your eyebrows draw up in the middle is met with the slightest quiver in your lip. From sadness or relief you’re not sure yet. “I want to tell you things I’ve never told anybody before, and I’m sorry if I misread things, but I just needed to get that off my chest.”

“Bob-” You try as he interrupts you again, caught up in his own feelings to hear you for once.

“I know you don’t feel the same way, and why would you? I’m just me, and you’re you. I wasn’t lying when I said any guy would be so lucky to have you, and I’m honored to just be considered your friend. And I- I know this is against so many rules in place, so please just forget I said anything and- God I’m such an idiot.” Your feet are moving faster than your brain as you walk over to him. Placing both hands on his smooth cheeks, you lift his head from where he was staring at the ground and plant your lips right on his. He’s shocked at first, not daring to move. Eyes fluttering shut as his hands ghost over your waist, until you pull away and there’s the tiniest amount of space between your faces.

Your hands are still as the rest of your body buzzes in anticipation. Your chest heaves against his, out of breath from the simplest of kisses. He’s so close, yet so far away as your fingers adjust to the feeling of holding his face in both of your hands. It’s quiet, his eyelashes fluttering as he starts to blink rapidly.

“Why did you do that?”, he whispers. Almost afraid that this was another dream he would inevitably wake up from.

“Because I wanted to”, you whisper right back, still in shock of what he confessed. Your eyes dart between his own deep blue ones as they’re blown wide.

“Not because of the dare?”

“No”, you shake your head. “Just cause I really wanted to.” You reassure him as his eyes flick from yours black down to your lips. His cold nose nudges yours, once, then twice before sinking into your cheek as he hesitantly kisses you first this time. You reciprocate immediately, pushing back just as softly against his lips as to not scare him off. His touch is gentle, yet demanding, knowing in the back of both of your heads it’s only a matter of time before someone comes to find you.

Both sets of lips part the tiniest bit as you turn your head slightly to get a better angle. His mouth is warm against your own, lips still moving in sync. One of your hands slides down to his shoulder while the other eases up onto his neck, fingers running over the buzzed hair at the back of his head. Bob hums against your lips at the motion, gaining the confidence to step closer as his hands finally land against your body, anchoring to your waist.

His grip tightens a fraction as you hum against his mouth, giving him the courage to lick at the seam of your lips with his tongue. Butterflies erupt in your stomach at the movement, eliciting another hum, bordering on a moan as you allow him entrance into your mouth. The first thing you notice is that he tastes like Dr. Pepper, the second thing that's a little easier to pick up on is that Bob is a really good kisser.

The shock that you are in fact kissing Bob wears off, and makes way for a flood of need. Caressing his tongue with your own, Bob slides one hand to your back, the other still gripping your waist as he holds you closer. The slight pressure of his large hand pushing you against him has you wanting more as he begins to walk you backwards to the wall of the house. Never breaking away from each other, you feel the cool structure against your back, even as Bob tries his best to keep you from hitting it. You grip him a fraction harder, the only sound you can hear through your heartbeat is Bob’s occasional hum and the clicking of your lips working together.

Bob’s got you locked against him as you shift your hand from his shoulder to his bicep, squeezing the large muscle, only to slowly drag it down to feel the bare skin and hair of his forearm beneath your fingers. The kissing is slowing down, still just as deep. Both of you demanding the same amount from the other, knowing this well may be the only time you’re able to feel the other like this. The two of you finally break apart, catching much needed breaths as your eyes remain closed. Even before opening your eyes, you can still feel Bob heaving against you, desperate for air as you do the same. You place a chaste kiss on his lips and he chases yours for another until you both open your eyes, just staring at each other through hooded lids.

You swallow, so many emotions running through your mind. It’s hard to listen to them when Bob is still just as close as he was a moment ago when his lips were against yours.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while”, he breathes, a nervous smile tugging on his lips.

At a loss for words, you go to open your mouth until you hear the screech of the sliding glass door opening up. Bob immediately jumps away from you as your attention diverts to whoever is about to walk out on you two in such a compromising situation.

Phoenix pokes her head out as she looks for you, “Hey.”

“Hey” you breathe out in a sigh of relief, grateful it was her and not anyone else. You try to slow your breathing even as your heart threatens to leap out of your chest.

“Have you seen Floyd?”

“Yeah he was just-”, you turn around, expecting to see Bob standing behind you, but only see the white fence, “He just left”, you mutter. Brows furrowing as your eyes remain locked on where he just was.

“Damn, I was hoping that wasn’t the case. I need to talk to him.” You continue to stare at the fence where Bob once stood, dumbfounded that he managed to slip away so quickly. “You ok?” Turning back around, you attempt to gather yourself as you breathe out an answer.

“Yeah”

“Alright”, she eyes you skeptically, “Well, you gonna rejoin us? I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to.”

“No, I’ll be back in, I just… need some air.” You watch her head disappear as you lean back against the house, only this time, Bob isn’t here to hold you to it. Your fingers trace your swollen lips as you gaze around the backyard. What the hell just happened?

Taglist:

@lemmons1998

@itsmytimetoodream

@theamuz

@harrysgothicbitch

@mygyn

@luckyladycreator2

@marve2014

@wretchedmo

@melsunshine

@jostan456

@okiegirl24

@beebeechaos

@eclecticfashionbookszipper

@hunbomb

#top gun maverick #why me?#bob floyd fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #mavdad #robert bob floyd x female reader #top gun fandom

107 notes · View notes

ellethespaceunicorn · 9 months

Text

Daddy Knows Best, Part IV

Title: Daddy Knows Best, Part IV

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: StepDad!August Walker x StepDaughter!Reader

Fandom: Mission: Impossible - Fallout

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: August Walker and your father were once friends. One mission, a single decision, made them enemies. August decides he needs to get his revenge. And what better way, than to become your new Daddy?

Chapter Summary: Daddy and Babydoll deal with the police, and attempt to move on after the tragedy.

Warnings: pet names (Daddy, Babydoll, babygirl), age gap (the reader is 18, August is in his late-30s), loss of a parent (mother), police interrogation, Dom/sub vibes, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, dead dove: do not eat

A/N: This is different from my usual fics. This would be considered dark!fic in every way possible. If you read the warnings and still choose to read, you are making your own decision. No one is forcing you to read this. This is an entirely self-indulgent therapeutic fic. Enjoy! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @saradika

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

You wake in your bedroom, the early afternoon sun shining through the curtains. You roll over on your side and expect to see Daddy but he’s not in the room. Deciding to take a shower and start the day, you rise and undress.

As you wash yourself, you are suddenly hit with an overwhelming feeling of emptiness and loss. For a few moments, you were free. And then you remembered.

Mommy’s dead.

You saw her lifeless body floating in the swimming pool. That vision will probably never leave your brain. The last memory of your mother is of seeing her face down. The crystal-clear water of the pool marred with the sight of her.

Even though you had a rough relationship with her, you still mourn the loss of your mother. With your dad out of the picture, you only had one parent in your life. And now she has been taken away from you.

The water in the shower had gone a bit cold so you rinse yourself off and grab your towel to dry yourself. You dress in a black crop top with a sleeveless black plaid A-line dress on top of it. Pulling on some black thigh-high stockings and a pair of black platform Mary Janes, you embody the look of the mournful daughter.

You look over yourself in the mirror and try smiling at yourself. Instead, a few fat tears roll down your cheeks and you let them fall before giving up on trying to fake happiness. Wiping your face, you settle for going to find Daddy.

Once you leave your bedroom, you walk downstairs and are surprised to see that Daddy isn’t alone. Both men stand when you reach the bottom of the stairs, but the woman stays seated with a small smile on her face. Daddy holds out an arm for you to come join them.

“Come on over, don't be shy. This is Detective Marshall. He came to talk about what happened to your mother,” He nods at my words, “And this is Rachel, she’s a psychologist who works with Detective Marshall.”

I watch as Babydoll walks over and stands next to me, she greets our guests and then sits leaving space between us on the couch. That’s my good girl, don’t give them the chance to question our relationship. I sit down and gesture for Marshall to continue.

“I think I’d like to continue with you in private, if that’s alright Mr. Walker. Perhaps Rachel may speak with your stepdaughter?” Marshall suggests and I agree to his terms.

“Why don’t you take Rachel up to your room so you two can have a little chat?” I insist, patting Babydoll’s knee softly.

Once she nods, she and Rachel make their way upstairs and I hear the door to her bedroom shut. I look back to Marshall and he is scribbling in his little green notebook. His eyes are harder when our gazes meet.

“Just a few more questions and I will be out of your hair, Mr. Walker.”

“Please, call me August. Whatever I can do to help.” I lean forward with my elbows on my knees and my hands clasped together.

“I appreciate that, August. Uh, so you say that your stepdaughter was the first to see your girlfriend’s body. Where were you at this time?”

“I was bringing in my luggage from my car. I made it to the kitchen and noticed the open patio door. When I walked toward it, I heard her scream and caught her as she passed out. I saw her mother in the pool and realized that she wasn’t moving. After putting my stepdaughter in her bedroom, I called the police.” I kept my face neutral, but my eyes welled up a bit and I blinked away tears.

“So, you and your stepdaughter weren’t home when your girlfriend was killed. You two had been on a trip?”

“Yes. I had been on a trip for work, but my stepdaughter didn’t want to be here alone with her mother, so I brought her with me. Their relationship has been a bit strained since the divorce about a year ago. She misses her father and I, no matter how hard I try, am barely a substitute for him.” That’s it, play the role of a loving stepfather.

"You mentioned you work for the CIA, Special Activities. Is it safe for you to take your stepdaughter along on business trips in your line of work?”

“She was never in any danger. No one knew our location or that she was with me. The safe house we stayed in was discreet and out of the way. The only time she was left alone was this morning, and it was just for a couple of hours. I’m sure you understand I can’t divulge the details of my assignment. But you are more than welcome to check in with my superior, Erika Sloane.” I fish her card out of my wallet and hand it to Marshall.

“Thank you, August. As soon as Rachel is ready, we’ll be out of your way.”

No sooner do those words leave his mouth, than Rachel is coming down the stairs with Babydoll in tow. I notice the smiles on their faces and wonder what they got up to while they spoke. As they come back into the living room, Rachel stands next to Marshall and Babydoll stands near me.

“I think that’s everything. We’ll be in touch, August. Thank you for your time.” Marshall reaches out to shake my hand and he smiles at Babydoll.

For a split second, my face betrays me as I slightly scowl at him smiling at her. But in the same breath, I steady myself and look at Rachel before shaking her hand.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.” Rachel tilts her head at Babydoll and touches her shoulder.

I walk the detective and his partner out and once the door is closed, I turn and make my way back to the couch. My perfect little one sits with her leg under her, her big doe eyes settling on me.

“So, sweet girl, what did you and Rachel talk about?”

You took Rachel into your room and closed the door behind her. She looked around and smiled at the various photos and knickknacks you had scattered about the room. She sat on the edge of your bed and patted the space next to her. You sat down and she began to ask questions right away.

“So, you and your stepdad seem close. What was your relationship like with your mother?”

“My mom and I were never all that close. I was a lot closer with my Nanny, while she was here. Um, I guess I’m more of a Daddy’s girl. Mom was never satisfied with me, I don’t think. She always wanted me to be better. At sports, at school, at everything. She wasn’t my biggest fan. And then after the divorce, I felt even more distant from her. Dad was gone and I was left with her. Then August started dating Mom and it was weird in the beginning, but he ended up being a nice guy. And he listened to me, and he would stand up for me when Mom was on my case. I didn’t hate my mom. I just wished she liked me.” You looked away from Rachel to wipe a single tear that threatened to fall from your eye.

“Seems like August was your knight in shining armor.”

“Um, yeah. He cares about me. He cared about my mom too. He doesn’t treat me like a kid like Mom did. I don’t mean to make my mom seem all that bad. She was doing the best she could, I know that. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. I hope whoever did this to her rots in a jail cell forever. Sorry, I’m just angry and upset. My emotions have been a bit off the rails.”

“It’s perfectly normal to feel sad or livid or even bitter about death. With your relationship with your mother, I am not surprised your emotions are unsure of what to do. Sometimes, we might even feel like a weight is lifted off our shoulders when a certain person in our life is gone. Nothing of what you’re feeling is wrong.” Rachel tilted her head at you and smiled.

“Thanks.” You returned the smile and went back to fiddling with the hem of your dress.

"Do you feel safe here with August? I only ask as a precaution. Having you in a place where you feel safe is most important.” She put a hand over yours and you froze. What did she mean by that?

“I feel more than safe with him. He’s never given me a reason not to trust him.” You suddenly felt defensive over August and you tried to keep yourself calm.

“Good. I’m glad you have him to help you through this trying time. But if you ever need to talk, or even if you just need someone to listen, you can call me.” She pulled a business card out of her pocket and handed it to you.

“I don’t know if I’ll have anything to talk about but thank you.”

“Maybe something that you can’t talk to August about. Something that maybe only another woman would understand?”

“Oh. Ok. Um, I will let you know if anything comes up.” You stood and put the card on your desk and Rachel stood as well.

“Good. Any time, day or night. I’ll be available at that number. Use it whenever you need me. I think that’s all I need. Why don’t we go and rejoin the others?” Rachel went to your bedroom door and let you walk out first.

You’re not quite sure about how to feel about your interaction, but at least you felt like you defended August well and even made a new friend. She seemed nice enough anyway.

After she tells me everything that she and Rachel talk about, I feel a bit more at ease. Less like the detective thinks I murdered her mother, but more like his partner thinks something is going on between me and Babydoll.

Which there is, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Even if she did know, it isn’t illegal. She’s 18, a consenting adult, and she’s well taken care of. Not that I need to explain myself to anyone.

“Babydoll, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? Anything at all. Daddy is here to listen and to keep you safe.”

“I know, Daddy. There is something...but, I don’t know.” She ducks her head and looks to the floor.

I put a finger under her chin, lifting it so she can look at me. “Anything, Babydoll. You ask and I’ll make sure it gets done right away.”

“Daddy, I...don’t want to live here anymore. All I can see around me is bad memories with Mom. Or old memories with...my father. And neither of them is in my life anymore. Does it make me a bad person that all I wanna do is move on? I feel weird even being in the living room, so close to where Mom died.” She plays with her fingers and looks down again.

“Let me make a few calls, Babydoll. I’ll see if we can be out of the house by week’s end, alright?”

“Thank you, Daddy. This means a lot.” She stands and wraps her arms around my neck in a tight embrace. I hug her back and lift her off the ground a bit and she giggles. The tuneful sound tickles my ears, and I am happy to be the cause of it.

I kiss her cheek and send her up to her room to deflate. In the next few hours, I have a house lined up for us on the nicer side of town. Three bedrooms, three baths, finished basement, big backyard with an in-ground pool. A perfect place to start a new life.

By the end of the week, we are finishing up moving all our stuff over to the new house. Other than a small crying fit that Babydoll has while she and I go through her parents’ belongings and decide what to keep and what to donate, the move was mostly hassle-free.

One morning after a run to clear my head, I was surprised to have a visit from Detective Marshall, and this time he only wanted to talk to me. I let him in and ask Babydoll to give us some privacy. We talk for a short while about moving from the old house and how Babydoll is doing. I ask him to cut to the chase and he nods and tells me Babydoll’s father’s body has been found.

He was discovered in a hotel room with substances in his system, along with a suicide note that included his confession to killing his ex-wife. At that bombshell, I’m visibly unnerved. Marshall reaches out a hand to my shoulder and apologizes for having to deliver this information.

He makes a sort-of backhanded comment that my former partner must not have liked that I took his place in his family. I responded by saying it wasn’t appropriate to make assumptions about dead men. Besides, as his ex-wife told me many times, they were rocky well before I stepped in. Marshall also stated that since Babydoll’s father had confessed to the murder this case was now officially closed, and we could go ahead with a burial ceremony.

I thanked him for relaying the news and escorted him to the front door. Before he left, he made sure I knew he would be keeping an eye on us. Seems the detective doesn’t trust me. I couldn’t care less, honestly. Let him try and pin this all on me.

I mean, he could pin it all on me if he wanted to do so. It's not like he would be wrong in doing so.

But I covered all my tracks and sealed them airtight. And with my record, they’d be ridiculous to come after me now that they have a confession and another dead body on their hands.

I wait until the detective drives off in his large black Ford F-Series, leave my sneakers at the door, and then make my way up to find Babydoll. I find her sprawled across the bed in the Master bedroom, sketching something in her notebook. Technically, this is my bedroom and hers is down the hall, but she sleeps with me most nights.

“What are you up to, Babydoll?” I ask, coming around the bed to sit next to her and peer into her notebook.

She shuts it before I can get a good look inside, “It’s a surprise, Daddy. You can’t see it yet.”

“Oh, I'm not allowed to see it yet, huh? Well, I guess Babydoll isn’t allowed to cum tonight then. How about that?”

Fuck, I loved to tease her. She always made the cutest little pouty faces.

“Daddy! No! Please may I cum tonight? I’ll do anything. Just, I was making you something special and I don’t wanna show you ‘til it’s finished. I don’t wanna ruin the surprise. Please?” There goes that little pouty lip of hers, it could make me agree to anything.

“Ok, fine, Babydoll. But you’re gonna cum when Daddy says to.”

“I can be a good girl for you, Daddy. I promise.”

“There’s my good girl,” I lay back against the pillows after I shuck my muscle tank, joggers, and socks, “Show me that sweet little pussy while Daddy gets his dick ready for you.” I take out my length and start to stroke it while she pulls her panties down, laying on her back so she can show me how she plays with herself.

Within minutes, her cunt is making those glorious squelching sounds I love so much while she fingers herself for me. I am beyond hard at this point and I am salivating just to get inside her.

“Come up here and lay back Babydoll. Let Daddy have his turn now.”

She removes her fingers from her wet snatch and slides next to me. I take off my boxers and my cock springs up and bounces against my abdomen. Leaning over her, I position my dick at her entrance and slowly slide in thanks to the wetness she has accumulated.

“Fuck, Babydoll, you are so tight. You feel so perfect around me.” I don’t stop until my balls are against her ass and our hips are flush together. I’ve molded this pussy to fit my shaft perfectly. Pulling out, I slam back in and am rewarded with her angelic little whimpers.

I don’t necessarily need to last long; I just need to make sure I get her to her peak before I reach mine. I find a steady rhythm thrusting in and out of her tight heat that has her keening in my ear. Her arms are around my neck and her legs are wrapped around my waist.

I can feel her core tightening around me, and I know she is close. Reaching a hand between us, I use my thumb to flick against her clit to push her over the edge. Her moans tell me everything I need to know.

“Cum for me, Babydoll. Soak my fucking dick, sweet baby.” Not even a second later, I feel the tell-tale signs of her orgasm as her folds flutter around me and the dam breaks loose. She screams out and I can’t help myself.

I fuck into her until I feel my balls draw up and then I slam into her heat one last time. I swear I was going to pull out and I almost did, but the warmth and the tight fit and my exhaustion from the run got the better of me. I came deep inside her as my cockhead sat against her cervix. I didn’t give a fuck about anything except the notion of her cunt holding me so perfectly as I blew my load.

The only sounds in the room were of us catching our breath.

Once I could move again, I lean up on my knees and pull back from where I collapsed on top of her. Holding her legs open, I let my length slip out. Soon, my massive load starts to rush out and I push all of it back inside her as she lazily smiles up at me. I smile at her then pull her into the bathroom with me to shower.

She’s barely able to stand in the shower and I mostly hold her steady. We both get clean enough and I help her dry off then dry myself off and we make it back to the bedroom and lay back down in bed. I tell myself it is best to talk to her now about all this instead of waiting and possibly upsetting her.

“Alright, Babydoll. Daddy just creampied you, I didn’t pull out this time. I came inside you. Now, in the morning, Daddy is gonna run and get you a plan B pill so that you don’t get pregnant. But I think it might be time that we get you on birth control so that Daddy doesn't have to worry about this kind of thing in the future.” I speak slowly and clearly so she knows that I have her best interest at heart.

“Ok, Daddy. Can we take a nap now? I’m exhausted.” She is already rolling over on her side and throwing an arm across my chest.

“Yeah, Babydoll, let’s take a nap.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder and kiss the top of her head.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking of her tummy round and swollen with my kid and her tits heavy with milk. But I know that’s just emotion talking. As much as I want to get her pregnant, right now it is far too soon after everything with her parents.

Right?

Part V (coming soon)

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long to get out, loves. Anywho, hope you enjoyed this. I still have more in me, I think.

**Tag List**

@winterschildren8 @raccoon-eyed-rebel @viking-raider @devotedlythoughtfulanchor @livisss @randomweirdoss @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @mrs-solo-walker [Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁]

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midnight-in-town · 15 days

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Hi. I hope you are having a nice day.

I just happened to have a question about Kuroshitsuji. We are all wondering that who could it be that attacked the Phantomhives on the twins birthday and 2 of the most common theories r that either it's the queen or it's real Ciel.

However, I think it could be a bit different. Like maybe real Ciel, still being a child may not be the mastermind (although my viewpoint is kinda changed after seeing so many kids in real life turning psychos or murderers more often than ever lol XD). I remember Yana showing us the evil aristocrats in the circus arc from Vincent's time. We saw undertaker, Claus, dee, that photographer, one unnamed lady I think, and maybe some more guys. Here's the thing, what if it's one of them that backstabbed Vincent? We know that Claus, undertaker and dee could never do that since they were there to help Ciel after he became the watchdog (although now undertaker took real ciel's side, somewhat). But not all of those people from Vincent's time came to serve his successor, which was our Ciel at that time. The photographer looked quite sus as well since he didn't necessarily take anybody's sides and would just do whatever would benefit him (like what if he's not just a photographer but an aristocrat under a fake identity?). Then whatever could have happened to the rest of those evil aristocrats like that lady for example. Did they just stop being evil or being related with the Phantomhives especially after what happened to the Phantomhives or did they really betray Vincent? What if somebody was grooming (not in the sexual way) real Ciel and was collecting all sorts of information from him like how the Phantomhives may let their guards down on the twins birthday? It obviously seemed like the attacker was indeed close to the Phantomhives or else how did they manage to carry out this plan so perfectly? Also real Ciel did have a bubbly personality and was extroverted. We saw nothing of the boat trip that happened without our Ciel. What if real Ciel was hanging out with an adult with whom he would be talking about his problems (like how he didn't want his brother to leave him and open a toy store) and that person was taking advantage of real ciel's vulnerability to gather information about the Phantomhives. But real Ciel at that time may not have known that and maybe he trusted that adult but then sadly he realized that he was betrayed? What if that's the reason he looked more disappointed and guilty while being kidnapped (since neither him or his dad was able to see through that attackers real self) while our Ciel looked confused and scared.

Sorry for the long ask. Well, I want to know what you think, if you don't mind.

Hi Anon ! I'm having a busy day but I'm okay, I hope you're fine as well. :3

So, about the attack on the manor 4 years ago, I definitely talked about this subject many times, meaning next time, please do a quick check before asking. ;) Long story short, it's not "the Queen or real!Ciel", it's "the Queen, John Brown and real!Ciel".

For real!Ciel's motivations, please read my recap post about the RCMT theory (the name is definitely a misnomer yes, since real!Ciel was manipulated by Victoria and John Brown). Also feel free to browse the RCMT tag for more discussion.

As for the Queen and John Brown, here's the companion theory about the Fenian Brotherhood being one trigger behind Vincent and Rachel's death.

Lastly about Vincent's evil nobles that we have yet to meet, I think most of them are still working with the Watchdog, it's just that, like Dee, they may not all be in England.

As for any potential traitor, yes it's possible, though there is no real hint so far in the story (UT being a special case). To tell you everything, @dorkshadows and I, we bet on Klaus.

No real reason why, except that we see him a lot in the story despite him having, so far, 0 narrative significance. Also, we believe, unlike Dee who probably knew all along which twin our!Ciel was, that Klaus might choose real!Ciel's side in the upcoming future.

TL;DR Vincent probably became a political enemy of Victoria, so she indeed used real!Ciel's obsession for his little brother against his parents ("maybe you could replace your father as my Watchdog, that way I won't have to get rid of you and your little brother, also you would have enough power to make your little brother stay with you forever UwU").

Lastly, on December 14th, it's probably John Brown, as "Jane the maid", who killed most of the servants and abducted the twins.

My blog's missing a post about John Brown's motivations, as a demon staying for about 50 years by Victoria's side, but @dorkshadows and I discussed a few ideas that I'll share publicly at some point when I have time.

Have a good day Anon ! :)

#kuroshitsuji #ciel phantomhive #vincent phantomhive #2CT #rcmt #queen victoria #john brown #jane #kuroshitsuji theory #anon #answers #klaus #diedrich

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anonymoushouseplantfan · 1 year

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The world moves too fast now for anyone to get to the levels of Julia and George in the 90s/early 2000s....now you can literally be hot on Monday and not on Tuesday. The markets are oversaturated and social media has literally changed the world now people literally know every single thing there is to know about you within 30 minutes of you appearing in public and before people had years to get to know and love someone now everyone moves too fast to Carr and if they don't like you now then it's OK cos their is 30 other people exactly like you for them to choose from.

I also think Meghan has overplayed her hand too many times and she the fact she doesn't have a specific demographic to cater to either hurts her and any brand she's trying to build she's too old for the TikTok crowd she's too young and common for the NYC old money society crowds she's not talented or famous enough for Hollywood she literally doesn't have a single space she can occupy even the oh I'm famous cos I married someone famous club is ram packed and the only difference she had was she married royalty but now he's not even royalty he's 3rd row Harry on a commercial flight home and hour later.

She really put a lot into her "The Duchess/Duchess Meghan brand in the 2 or so years she was a royal and then spent the next 3 years completely smashing it to shreds....like why should we care that she's royal if being royal is as awful as she says it is?

Even the mom and baby club is full and it's full of people who actually show their kids 🙈 celebrity lifestyle and wellness?? Full and with people whi project an aspirational lifestyle....do you want to be like the 40 year old ex actress who spends her whole life fighting with her family and suing the press? Nope...me neither.

If she had spent the last 3 years building her own brand instead of trying to tear down the RFs she might be in better shape.

Even the divorce is gonna go against her IMO cos people genuinely just don't like her, she's not authentic and people can spot she's a fake a mile off, that's why the sugars and her PR attack Kate so much Kate is the real deal, anyone with half a brain cell can tell she was born to do this in fact she does it better than most of the people who were born to do this but Kate also knows this takes work she has honed her skills for over 2 decades..... Meghan is too petty, juvenile and lazy to do that or anything close to it.

I don't see WME being a game changer for her either, she loves attaching herself to big brands and names cos it makes her feel important but she doesn't have any follow through and nothing comes of it, have you ever heard of the sadim touch? It's the opposite to the midas touch and that's what she has. I know we all like to joke but she literally turned a prince into a pauper, he was the most popular royal (even more popular than the monarch) and now he's known as the frozen todger guy sitting in the nosebleeds at his fathers coronation 🙈

Sorry for the essay, if you made it this far congrats 🤣🤣

Great essay!!

I agree with you generally, but I think she a window. The royal connection (tenuous as it is right now) is valuable and it differentiates her. Also, the “feminist princess” brand the palace built for her is still compelling. They did a great job for her there. The “royal Rachel Zane” persona would still sell.

WME can’t do miracles, but they can get her a guest spot in The View. They can’t get her a job, but they can get her a guest spot, particularly if she delivers a second season of Archetypes that is not seven episodes of narcissism. She can go on Drew’s show. She can get the ghostwriter to write her a bestselling memoir that is not just cringe bitching about her family. She can get someone talented to write her a few good essays for Time. If she’s smart and she works hard she can do it. If she’s super smart and she divorces him, she has an even better chance of sound it.

But that’s the problem. She’s not smart and she doesn’t work hard. She’s going to buy herself some awards, do some random passive aggressive bitching, pose for a few paps, and call it a day. So, in the end, it’s not going to work out for her.

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call-me-maggie13 · 9 months

Text

I’m bored and the guys at work are being goofy so here’s a list of no context things I’ve heard from The Boys™ recently.

“Call me a fake lesbian but I don’t really like girl in red. Clairo? Love. WILLOW? Besties. Hayley Kiyoko? Lesbian Jesus. But Girl in Red and I don’t really vibe. Sorry.”

“Maybe I’m losing my mind, but I wanna bite that truck.”

“Aye, watch your language.” “Will it do a flip?” “What?” “Watch it’s gunna do a flip!” [flips manager off]

“Have y’all heard about the Zuckerberg V. Musk fight? Okay let’s debate. Kanye or Swift, who would win? Actually. That wouldn’t be fair, Kanye never stood a chance. Okay. Obama or Trump? Fists only, no weapons.”

“Do you ever wonder if grass can feel? Like. What if it screams on a frequency I can’t hear every time I step on it? What if the fresh mowed grass smell is actually grass tears and blood?”

“I know we all agreed, but…”

“If lightning struck me right now, would y’all try to save me?”

“Sometimes I’m like ‘Hozier is a god.’ And sometimes I’m like ‘Hozier is just some guy.’”

“Someone threw away a black American Express card. Can I keep it? It’s not expired.”

“I’m not allowed to set off fireworks anymore. It’s not my fault I didn’t know they were actual explosions that could burn a house down. No, this wasn’t when I was a kid, this was like three months ago.”

“What do you think the sky tastes like?”

“When I was twelve, my mom hit me with her car backing out of the driveway and she didn’t even take me to the hospital. I think I broke my arm and I’m pretty sure that’s why my wrist does this. [shows wrist making clicking noise when he rolls it]”

“Okay. But. What if. Nope wait, I think that’s illegal.”

“God customers are stupid. Are you closed?? No lady, the sign says we’re closed because we’re open. It makes me want to eat a car battery.”

“If you could only eat one bug for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“What are y’all’s opinions on potato flavored chewing gum?”

“Can I start bringing my dog to work?”

“Can I break this? I know it’s already broken, I want to break it more.”

“I’m a simple man. I like when things go boom. That doesn’t mean I started the fire.”

“Sometimes I like to take a bath and pretend I’m a little potato getting boiled to make some mashed potatoes.”

“Why can’t I be a duck? Why do I have to be a person?”

“But if I just punch him in the face, I don’t have to worry about him being mean anymore.”

“Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Mag - okay I’m bored now.”

“If I was a rock, I think I’d be a big blue smooth shiny rock. What rock would you be?”

“I have an announcement to make. Stalactites and stalagmites. That is all. Carry on.”

“Sorry, was that gay?”

“I think being an adult is all about being nice to yourself. And taxes, maybe.”

“Why does the dirt over here taste saltier than the dirt by the flowers?”

“No. If I’m not asking him about Taylor Swift, what makes you think I’d ask him about Gracie Abrams?”

“Can I make a list of everyone’s red flags?” “Only if you list their green flags too.”

“I had to change your contact name to Charles. I don’t know why Charles, I just panicked and picked the first name I could think of.”

“Sometimes I forget she’s your mom.” “She’s not my mom. Do you think she’s my mom?” “Not anymore.”

“God. Everyone wants to be Donna but no one wants to be Rachel. No one is Donna except Donna. Everyone else is Rachel. Or they’re Harold.” (Someone please tell me what this means, I have no idea what he’s talking about)

“Why do crickets taste like that?”

“Oh to be a silly little horse in a silly little field being taken care of by a silly little person I could crush like a bug beneath my silly little hooves.”

“Tell me more, tell me more, like does he have a car?”

“The world went to hell when autopsies started testing for poison. Women just can’t poison their husbands anymore. That was the true beginning of the downfall of society.”

“What happens if someone asks to take their motorcycle through the carwash?”

“You don’t have to file customer complaints if you eat the paper they’re written on.”

“And if I said I still haven’t forgiven John Wilkes Booth, what would you say?”

“I don’t say this lightly, but the Pedro Pascual edits on tiktok have confused me sexually.”

“I just pulled a dead bird out of some guy’s grill. Anyone hungry?”

“Taylor Swift might have forgiven him but that doesn’t mean I have to!”

“Why aren’t we allowed to have a company pet? Firefighters get Dalmatians, we should be allowed like. A fish or something.”

“I dreamt that I came to work yesterday and worked an entire shift, is there any way I can get that added to my pay?”

“My girlfriend is mad at me because I keep playing I’m Just Ken and telling her she’s Kenough.”

“Can we close early on October the thirteenth? Oh, no reason… On a completely unrelated note: what should I wear to the Eras Tour movie?”

“If my grandmother confessed to murdering my grandfather but it happened in like the eighties, do I have to report it? Hypothetically, of course.”

“Sometimes a man just needs to cry to mirrorball and tolerate it in his car. Sometimes he just needs to scream Death by A Thousand Cuts. Sometimes…”

“I accidentally just called a customer Mom and she gave me her phone number, what do I do?”

“It’s only blasphemy if you get caught. Do you really think God has time to listen to everything every single person says?”

“Sometimes I wish I was a woman but then I remember this is America and I thank the stars that I’m not. Sorry, Maggie.”

“Why is it so hard to find a stupidly rich woman searching for a trophy husband?”

“Do you think I could walk through the carwash instead of taking a shower?”

[after a guy’s day off] “I missed you guys yesterday. I wish I never had to leave.”

“My sister told me I was adopted and my mom got mad because she wasn’t supposed to but like. My parents are white. I’m black. I already knew.”

“I just had a child quote Revelations at me because I told him he shouldn’t drink the glass cleaner.”

“I forgot my shoes. Also, I just stepped in glass in the parking lot, someone should really clean that up.”

“I think everyone should be allowed to kill someone if they have a really good reason. I would kill the guy that called my sister a bitch because she didn’t want to sleep with him. Who would you kill?”

“Is… is that… not… normal?” [hint: it was not.]

“I stand with Sansa - I mean Sophie Turner.”

“I still don’t understand why I’m not allowed to punch customers in the mouth for being assholes to Maggie and Dru.”

“What kind of tree do you think I am?”

“Apparently I was supposed to listen to the new Olivia Rodrigo album with my girlfriend and now she’s upset with me for listening to it with y’all first.”

“Every night, I go to sleep and every morning, I wake up. How do I stop this cycle?”

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bakedbakermom · 7 months

Text

Waking Dreamland

Rated T // 4000 words // Read on A03

Angst (oh so much angst) with a happy ending! During my last rewatch I stayed up until 2am crying over the handful of sunflower seeds that Mulder gives Scully when they say goodbye (totally normal behavior right??), and thus this fic was born.

tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr

Dreamland AU - When Mulder is unable to switch back into his original body, Scully returns to Washington and he remains in Rachel, Nevada. They both try to build new lives for themselves, but how can they endure without each other?

He grows a beard. It’s the wrong color, but thicker and softer than the one he tried to grow in high school, and he’s surprised by how much he likes it, by how much it helps; it hides the unfamiliar chin and gives him something to look at in the mirror besides the eyes surrounded by laugh lines he didn’t earn, the nose that was never broken in a fight with Bobby Scortino behind the gym in fifth grade, the mouth that has never felt the sweet, trembling warmth of her breath.

This other man’s body hangs on him like an ill-fitted suit, soft from years behind a desk, but the knees are in decent enough shape for him to ease into a running routine that may someday catch up to what his old body could do. He lifts weights at the rec center, slowly replacing the beer gut with lean muscle; and though he knows it will never be the same, at least it’s a change he can control. Exercise helps with his anxiety, which unfortunately didn’t get left behind, unlike his weird little toe and the gunshot scar below his clavicle that he still startles to find missing each morning in the shower.

He joins a basketball league, even starts coaching a couple of youth baseball teams. There’s a girl named Dreama on the Tween Team, a little redheaded shortstop who always has her science textbook in her gym bag and never lets him get away with anything. He feels a near-painful whelming of hope for her, and endless indulgent pity for the gangly, dark-haired boy who trails along after her everywhere she goes, trying to impress her.

If being a Man in Black is hard, then quitting is somehow even harder; they don’t usually let men of his (well, Morris’s) position just hang up their flashy-things and walk out the door. He suspects they only let him get away with it because of the divorce, and because he stays close enough to the base that they can monitor him—dark cars with bland men parked in front of his apartment, a clicking any time he picks up the phone. Not that he has many places to go, not that he has anyone to call. He lingers only on the periphery, keeps only the most superficial relationships, glancing off of other people’s lives like light off a soap bubble.

Joanne kept the house and the kids, of course. He hears through the grapevine that Chris got early acceptance to UCLA, and that Terrance wants to become a screenwriter. Their new stepdad works in the same division that was in charge of faking the moon landing (before NASA managed to pull off the real one) so the kid will probably have an “in” at any studio he likes. He sees Joanne in town sometimes, at the market or the post office or the video store, and she is always smiling. He doesn’t approach her.

Sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is just get out of their way.

He gets a job, of all places, at the Little A’le’inn, slinging Alien Ales and Saucer Burgers to townies and tourists alike. It’s not a great job, but he’s had worse; and at least he gets to keep his ear to the ground for any good UFO gossip, even if it’s just the bragging of the test pilots and not hints into the dark heart of the mystery that consumed him for so many years. He has had to mourn for the answers he will truly never find, now, and the irony of being scant miles from the conspiracy theorist holy grail while himself being resigned to more earthly concerns is not lost on him.

He works, he works out, he endures. He slowly accepts that he will live and die in this body, in this prison of flesh that creaks in all the wrong places, in this life he tripped and fell into while it was already in motion. It’s a life sentence, and there is not even the hope of parole on the horizon.

The constant flow of UFO-worshippers through this bizarre neon honkytonk Mecca has one advantage: he can keep in contact with the Lone Gunmen. All his phone and email correspondence is being monitored, so they’ve set up drop points and communication systems in what the boys colorfully refer to as “meatspace” to get around it. There is a loose tile behind the door in the men’s room with a crack on one side and a hole behind it that they use to exchange brief messages, funneled through the hands of who knows how many anonymous intermediaries. If the crack is at the top, there’s a message waiting for him. He turns it to three o’clock when his reply is ready to be picked up.

There are protocols in place for six and nine o’clock, but he has yet to engage them.

He never knows which of the patrons leaves or picks up the carefully coded messages, and that’s probably for the best. The Gunmen never use the same courier more than twice, and they switch up their cyphers every few months—usually just as he is getting the hang of one, which is of course the point, but he grumbles under his breath anyway each time he finds a new decoder ring behind the tile.

They’ve talked about securing an email address for him, funnel accounts and spyware countermeasures they could deploy so he could keep in touch with his old life, but there’s only one other person he’d want to talk to, and he thought a clean break would be better.

He has only one picture of her, one the Gunmen had scrounged from his apartment while Morris was busy redecorating. It’s a polaroid he’d taken of her the day they got a new camera for the office. She’s sitting at the desk in front of his poster (god he misses that poster, nothing but ashes in the vent system now), one eyebrow raised in indulgent skepticism while he bounced around like a little kid, so excited to play with his new toy. The flash going off had surprised them both, but not as much as the fact that the picture had come out not just properly focused but also incredibly cute. She had rolled her eyes when he put it in his suit pocket, then on his desk at home, and so it was one of the few things that survived the fire.

He keeps it in his wallet, and tries not to look at it too much. It’s enough—it needs to be enough—just to know she’s there.

Sometimes at night he dreams of her. On the good nights, he dreams of smokey lounges and roadside diners and the hallway outside his apartment. On the bad nights, he dreams of the rising hum of bees.

He wonders if she ever dreams of him.

Time passes, and he rides it like a wave, letting it carry him away from the shipwreck of his old life and wash away what little flotsam still clings to him. News comes through the Gunmen—Skinner’s death, Spender’s, Diana disappearing along with the Smoking Man and his ilk. He does not ask them for news of her, and they do not offer it.

His mother’s passing hits him harder than he expected, and he asks the boys to send flowers for her grave. He wonders if Morris ever tried to reconcile with her, if he even went to the funeral. If she did. He takes three days off from work and indulges perhaps too deeply in the bar’s employee discount, puking out his guts and his regrets and a shame rooted so deep it rips him apart as it comes up, until he is empty, scraped clean, another thread in the sailcloth of his old life snipped away, never to be mended.

He goes back to work feeling both leaden with grief and weightlessly unmoored, as if gravity hasn’t yet decided what to do with him. He pours drinks, serves Wegman a burger, tries to laugh with the UFO nuts who stop by on their way to the Black (or is it white?) Mailbox, dreaming of Dreamland.

There’s a song playing on the jukebox that he recognizes, though no one can tell him the name or who sings it. It’s the same song that played the first time, when he brought Morris’s wife here a lifetime ago, when he thought there might still be hope. When he thought maybe he could still go home. His vision blurs as he listens, and he blames the Nevada laws that still allow smoking in bars.

I have waited for what seems Like a whole light-year Just to see your face

Something in his chest grows tight, and the other sounds around him fade away.

Now I'm staring at the stars Wondering where you are Wondering if I'll ever see Your face again

The bell above the front door jingles, somehow the only thing he can hear beside the music, and he looks up.

…as long as the sun would shine You would love me Love me And I hope You'll love the sunshine One more time…

He sees her the same moment she sees him, that shock of recognition like the shifting of the plates that bear the continents across the sea. The glass in his hand falls, shatters, and he would leap across the bar and pull her into his arms if his body (well, Morris’s) could just remember how.

All he can do is breathe her name.

“Scully…”

—

She carries the sunflower seeds in her pocket back to the motel, her hand tingling where his skin had touched hers for the last time. She cries that night, stinging tears and the kind of wracking, unstoppable sobs that make her ribs ache and her throat burn—the kind that Morris can almost certainly hear through the walls, thin as cardboard, and knowing that only makes it worse. He at least has the good grace to keep his mouth shut on the flight home, and she even catches a glimpse of what looks like contrition on his face once or twice.

They part outside the airport and he doesn’t look back. It shouldn’t hurt, but it does.

She still has enough friends and enough goodwill (or perhaps pity) at the Bureau to salvage her old teaching position, flaying corpses in a room full of wide-eyed students that now all look like babies to her. She wonders how she was ever so young. She wonders at the weight of years, the weathering of time, the subtle changes in the body and mind that build and ebb in a person like sand carried by the tide until one day you wake to find that shoreline has become unrecognizable.

She has felt that seachange in her core, somewhere behind her solar plexus, tugging at her from the depths of his eyes; he has remade her, as she has remade him, shaping and reshaping each other over years and miles and tears and enough bad coffee to bring down the ageless, impregnable cliffs that once surrounded her heart. She staggers now without it, like the nauseating jolt of solid ground after months at sea. She cannot find her footing.

The seeds live in her pocket so long they start to crumble, salt on her fingers day after day as she fiddles absently with them, and she finally moves them into a glass jar that she keeps on a shelf. She opens it once in a while just to smell them, just to feel the sting in her eyes and know that he was real, that they were real; and if she sneaks the jar into bed with her sometimes, if she sleeps with it under her pillow because it’s the only way to keep the nightmares at bay, she tries not to think about it too much.

She tries, for a long time, to move on. She buries Skinner. She buries Spender. She buries herself in jagged pieces that keep rising through the earth to cut her when she least expects it. We bury our dead alive, and she is a woman both haunted and haunting.

She moves through her life without touching it. She teaches, she consults, she moves her mouth and makes the noises that mimic human expression and connection without ever feeling them. It’s grief, she knows, leaving her by turns agonized and numb, screaming and sobbing, and it’s supposed to ease with time; but how can it when the ghost of him haunts not a house but her very cells, and his body lies not beneath the cold, dark earth but walks and talks and sneezes as if nothing has happened at all?

The gossip reaches her, even down in those cold, subterranean labs where she burrows herself away—he’s climbing the ladder with hands that aren’t his, bedding his way through the secretarial pool in a stolen body, throwing away another man’s lifetime of hard-earned misery to grab at that brass ring.

She sees him in the hallways, though she tries not to. To see his face with another person behind it—the smile that doesn’t match the mouth, the voice that hits all the wrong notes, even the gait like his shoes don’t fit, except it’s the feet themselves that are wrong—each time it twists in her gut like a knife. He says hello to her, once, a tentative and distorted echo that leaves her panting and heaving in the women’s room until Holly comes in and asks if she doesn’t need to go home and lie down.

She quits the next day.

Her mother tries to understand, though she has never been able to properly explain just what has happened to this bad pantomime that used to be the man at the center of her world. Maggie hugs her, feeds her, does her laundry when she can’t do it herself. She watches her daughter adrift on the tide and prays each Sunday that she will find some way to turn her ship to harbor.

They attend Teena Mulder’s funeral together, two black-clad figures among the scant handful of mourners who turn up at the snowy gravesite in North Carolina, murmuring thinly veiled poison about poor Teena’s ungrateful son, who couldn’t even be bothered to attend.

A wreath of lilac and carnation stands beside the open earth, with a tag reading simply “- M.” She traces her finger over it a dozen times, tears freezing on her cheeks.

When they go back to the car, she draws a deep and steadying breath. “Mom—”

“I know, sweetie. I’ll help you pack.”

—

She sidles up to the bar and his heart pounds so loudly in his ears he wonders if she can hear it. Her hair is dark, longer than he’s ever seen it, longer than the intervening months could account for and he realizes she’s wearing a wig; her makeup and clothing are outside her norm, as well—smokey eyes, crimson lips, a t-shirt from some band he doesn’t know, jeans with slashes across the knees that reveal little hints of pink skin as she walks toward him. She’s disguised herself from prying eyes, but he’d know her anywhere. Those luminous blue eyes that glass with tears as she looks at him, the way her right eyebrow lifts and her chin pebbles as she tries not to cry, the watery smile that pulls at her lips when she says, “Buy a girl a drink?” with a hitch in her voice that stakes him through the heart.

There are creatures in the desert, he knows, that go to ground deep beneath the sand, desiccating under the unrelenting heat, and only come back to life in the rain. He has become a creature of the desert, an empty husk curled and hollow; he drinks in the sight of her like the first patter of gentle rain, trying to let it be enough, even as he longs for a deluge to wash him clean and carry him away.

They slip into a booth in the back corner, sipping from twin bottles of local lager, and he cannot stop staring at her. She tells him about her life the past eighteen months, the pain and grief and loneliness that echoes down the hallways of her heart just as it does his. He tucks her words inside himself, as if he could save them, as if they can protect him from the drought that will return after the rain passes, as if they could fill all the empty places left behind when so much of himself has been cut away.

He aches to touch her, to tuck a strand of not-her-hair behind her ear and skim his thumb over the downy softness of her cheek. He almost does, almost takes her hand when she tells him about Skinner, purple and straining and dying in her arms; almost brushes away the tear that drips from her eye when she talks about Spender’s lonely burial, how she was the only one to leave a flower for him.

He is frozen. How can he touch her with these hands that aren’t really his? Would she even let him, or would she flinch away from his stranger’s body? And how would he be able to live after seeing that in her eyes?

But when she moves first, when she reaches across the chipped formica table to lay her hand over his as she says, “I’m so sorry about your mother,” the dam inside him breaks and he finds himself weeping, salt streaking down his cheeks as he clings desperately to her tiny, warm fingers. She is driftwood in a storm, a lighthouse through the fog, an anchor in the heaving sea that surges beneath his breastbone and pours in a torrent from his lips as he tells her everything—the cold and empty nights, the days that pass in a heat that burns but refuses to consume, Dreama and the boy and the way his heart cracks just a little bit more every time he makes a desperate wish for their happiness on a star that might be a stealth-plane. How he feels like he has already died, and is now only an inept gardener tending his own grave.

By the end she is crying with him, her eyes so blue he wants to drown in them, and when he stretches his arm across the vast continent of the booth to thumb her tears away, she does not flinch.

She leans into his hand.

He will never be able to put his heart back together after this, and he lavishes in the agony of it all; it means he is still alive.

—

“Hey, Fletch, you and your lady friend gonna lock up?” Sam, the owner, appears beside them as if from nowhere. “I thought your shift ended at ten.”

He snatches his hand back as if burned, clearing his throat and knuckling his eyes, and she looks around to see that the bar has emptied out except for them.

“Sorry, yeah, I guess I lost track of time. I’ll take care of it,” he says, and she marvels at how this different voice in this different throat still somehow drips with him, a favorite melody played on a new instrument. His sad little smile painted over a different set of lips, the familiar glint in a different color eye, the heat of him just the same through a different skin.

“Fletch?” she asks, quirking a brow at him when the other man moves away, and he smiles bashfully.

“I couldn’t stand ‘Morris,’ too close to old memories. Besides, sometimes I get to quote the movie.”

“Ever seen a spleen that large?”

“No, not since breakfast.”

He squeezes her hand in a quick little pulse as he rises to begin tidying up, and it takes her a long minute to wrangle her heart back into rhythm.

Could you love someone who looked like that? (What are you talking about, of course not! Five, ten minutes tops, maybe.)

When the counters are wiped clean and the lights turned off, he leads her out the back door and locks it behind them; the stars are shockingly bright in the clear desert night, glimmering like diamonds across a black velvet sky. His cheap truck and her cheaper rental sedan are the last cars in the lot, and they pause awkwardly between them. A tumbleweed with fantastic comedic timing rolls across the gravel.

Finally he takes her hand, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles as if to memorize their topography. “Thank you, Scully. For coming to see me.”

She opens her mouth to speak but he barrels right past her, the words falling from his lips in a pained deluge: missed you and go home and you deserve more and don’t look back for me and a thousand other ways to say goodbye because he knows if he stops speaking, that will be the end. She feels like she’s back in his hallway, back in that humid bubble of tears and breath where she had been the one begging him to let her go, where she realized she never could.

There are no bees in the desert.

She stops him with a finger against his lips. She cups his jaw, running her thumb along the silk of his beard, and the twitch at the corner of his mouth as he falls silent in surrender is as familiar as her own face in the mirror.

“I didn’t come here to say goodbye. I tried to grieve you. I tried to move on.” She steps closer, feeling the heat from his body wash against her own, the tide of his breathing pulling her to shore. “I tried to live a life without you. But I can’t. I don’t want to.”

His hands (well, Morris’s) are in her hair (well, wig), warm and real and who the fuck cares if the fingerprints they leave on her skin aren’t the ones he was born with, who cares if the tears in his eyes are salt from a different sea? It’s all one ocean, after all, and she wades forward into the spray.

“Wherever you are, Mulder, that’s where I belong,” she whispers. Ship to port, a wave to the shore, she fits into his arms as easy as breathing. “I love you.”

His grin is blinding in the starlight, his laugh echoing across the sand as he pulls her tight against him; he lifts her, spins until she is breathless and giggling. He sets her back down on solid earth, presses his forehead against hers and stares into her eyes. “Say it again.”

She runs her thumbs against his lips, and they’re as soft and plump as she imagined, even if the shape is a little off. “I love you.”

“No,” he says. “The part where you said my name.”

She shakes her head, smiling through the tears in her eyes, and stretches up to breathe, “Mulder,” against his lips.

His kiss is the rumble of thunder across the sea, the safe harbor that calls her home.

–

The next morning he turns the tile, skipping right past six o’clock (get me out of here) and straight to nine (get us out of here).

–

There is a house in West Virginia, an unremarkable little affair with painted shutters and rosemary by the garden gate. The couple who lives there use false names when they play bridge with the neighbors, and strange visitors stop by sometimes in the night. If you ever find yourself inside this house, look for a shelf high in the corner of the kitchen, where the morning light flickers through the dusty window. Look for the jar of sunflower seeds, and the crinkled polaroid propped against it.

Special thanks to @muldxr whose "trick or treat" ask prompted me to remember that I had this fic languishing in my WIP folder; and to @perpetually-weirdening for her encouragement, kind words, and first eyes. I scoured google for DAYS trying to find the name and artist of the song that plays in the Little A'Le'Inn during Dreamland II and apparently it has been lost to time. No one who worked on the show can remember, it doesn't get listed in the episode credits, even Shazaam can't figure it out. Maybe it's an X-File. I'd give credit if I could. Borrowing a handful of quotes from Fletch (1985) and "the part where you said my name" from Ever After: A Cinderella Story (1998), which you should watch if you haven't. I wanted to include a scene of Scully bullying the Lone Gunmen into giving her Mulder's location, but couldn't make it fit. Please feel free to imagine her threatening Frohike with grievous and very specific bodily harm.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #msr #xfiles #the xfiles #mulder and scully #my fic #my writing #dreamland #waking dreamland

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loveislandthegame · 3 months

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thoughts on today’s volume! first of all, i jumped for joy when i realised it was a girls’ choice recoupling … i pray that FB finally puts that tired ass “delulu bombshell picking you no matter how many times you reject them” plot line to rest . speaking of delulu bombshells, tyler really should've put his eggs in someone else's basket 😭 his (unique, not inevitably merged with the other LIs) personality is nice, he was just not the one for me . there's yet another discussion about ~connections~ during the date. hm...

incredibly pointless drama with whatever girl has beef with MC, in my case sophie . i'm not bothered that she flirts with jin, and it ended up being a fake out anyways, later on she picks jack at the recoupling . truly a low budget version of the lottie/gary/returning hannah drama

then the heartbreaker challenge was an obstacle course ? 😭 i thought it was going to be a lie detector test . anyways i gave claudia my heart, and she gave me … half her heart (i gave jin the diamond scene heart) honestly if there was a poly route with claudia and theo i’d be downnnnn, but theo is getting very jealous . more on that in a little bit

of course i didn't know this while playing, but whoever you gave your (free) heart to wins the challenge, and takes you on the date . i thought claudia just won by default, and was expecting her to pick theo so this was a really nice surprise ❤️❤️❤️

back to the guys, jin and tyler are so ... i don't have the words for it . Unserious! i didn't include it above, but when i picked claudia during the heartbreaker challenge they were deadass like "Where are you going?" & "Wrong direction?" 😭 moving on.

eavesdropped on the explosive, juicy argument between claudia and theo . shockingly well written, but i think the previous seasons have significantly lowered my standards . here’s a very abridged version:

after this there's an option to check on theo (or just go get ready LMAO) . i thought he would be tense but weirdly enough he was genuinely happy to see MC ? at least, there was absolutely nothing indicating that it was in a fake/strained way ? Girl...

picked jin at the recoupling, byeee tyler . you seemed nice but it's a chop

i was like, mentally checked out during his exit diamond scene so i can't give a proper summary . all i know is that there was two more bombshells, named christy and brad . claudia kissed them both . blah blah blah. theo did indeed kiss OG girl rachel, and they actually acknowledged that theo used to be a player . tyler said he thinks theo matured , but those old ways are coming back to the surface 👀 (theo kinda gives me levi energy: gorgeous, but he ain't shit)

one more thing, i'm honestly not sure if the theme is zodiac anymore, i feel like FB would have or...should have introduced it by now . the theme genuinely might just be "constant barrage of bombshells in the villa" 😭😭😭

#love island the game #litg #litg spoilers #spoilers #litg season 8 #litg s8 #litg tempting fate

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winns-stuff · 1 year

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LO RANT:

This is actually going to be small but it’s sick how everyone’s fine with Lore Olympus desecrating the names of the greek gods and shitting all over their myths. Like I genuinely feel like Rachel should be held more accountable because at the end of the day she’s making money off of this disrespectful ass comic, it’s not like she’s not she’s making millions and getting awards for this dog shit “retelling” and letting her fans genuinely believe that the stuff she puts in the comic is how it is in real life. I’m sure dozens of people genuinely think Minthe, Leuce, and Thetis are toxic and bitchy in the original myths since Rachel calls this her interpretation. If you don’t believe me I’ll put a screenshot of exactly the misinformation a lot of fans are spreading just to defend this horrible comic.

Interpretation can only go so far with stuff like this and I’m tired of everyone giving it a pass because of that excuse. If I show you a picture of a dog holding a bowl while looking sad maybe some will think he’s just hungry, others will think he’s been abandoned, and maybe even kidnapped by other people. It’s all up to their interpretation yes but at the same time it wouldn’t make a lick of sense for me to show you that picture and for you to say something non-relating like “the cat was in the meadow” or “the dog never had the bowl and actually the house that he’s in was a swimming pool the entire time.” There’s a difference between something being up to your genuine interpretation and you just making shit up and lying your ass off and Rachel has not been the doing the first.

How in the world did you get Leuce is a homewrecker from her being Hades’ first love and him turning her into a poplar tree after she tragically died in his realm due to the conditions of the Underworld? Is everyone genuinely believing that Rachel read the myths and got that from everything? And with Ares’ characterization in the myths compared to his characterization in Lore Olympus? She really got all of that from the myths. Be so fucking for real right now, she’s literally making all of this shit up and I’m so sick and tired of you fake greek mythology experts trying your hardest to defend this shit.

Listen, I am in no means fully informed or even educated about the myths as well but I’ve been learning a lot from those who are and the way that she made the gods is completely deplorable. It’s amazing how so many people are letting her slide with this and genuinely support her claims is insane and crazy.

Also, this may have been a real hot take and if it is I’m sorry but it’s been on my mind for a very long time and it’s just been getting me angry ever since.

#lo critical #anti lore olympus #anti lo #lore olympus criticism #lore olympus critical

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eclecticflowerbanditathlete · 8 months

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Road to Her part 2 — based on Titans 2018

Warning miscarriage, smut again, and it’s kinda long

The second time it happened was because a of mission that went side ways; or what we thought was a mission.

It started on my birthday, well since Tamaran and Earth solar systems count days and year’s differently, it the day that Dick refers to as my Earth birthday. I woke later slightly later then usual because Dick had kept me up late with what called an “early birthday gift” in the form of multiple orgasams. It had been a few months since the miscarriage and we had only just started to have sex again. Though we had filled that gap with talking, we both found sex to be a great stress reliever.

Dick had me pulled tight agains his chest, still asleep and with him being able to wale at the slightest change, I don’t want to move away. We always slept more on my side of the bed, Dick could be a clingy sleeper him claiming that he loved my natural warmth I gave off more than it being the love we shared. But it being closer to my side table was just better for when Dick slept later than I did, I could reach for my phone and wait for him to wake up. I always felt bad waking him when he doesn’t get enough sleep.

As I reached for my phone there was a purple envelope propped up with my name written in gold in Dick’s handwriting. I grabbed it and turned it over to find a note: I wanted to be the first to give you a gift but please wait until I’m up to open this. With love, Dick.

“Well than,” I said to myself and started to get out of the bed.

“Kory,” Dick said sleepily at the suddenly movement. “ is everything alright?”

“Yes. Everything is fine, just going to the bathroom.” Sorry not sorry.

I did a shorten version of my morning routine and when I came out Dick was sitting up leaning against the headboard smirking, as he fanned himself with the purple envelope.

“This wouldn’t happened to be why you abruptly decided to get up would it?” Dick asked.

“Maybe, but you said to wait and after the work out we had last night I don’t know how much longer you be sleeping.”

I crawled over him on the bed before sitting up, with my legs on either side his, straddling him; one of his hand resting on my thigh as the other held my gift.

“Can I open it now?” I asked reaching for it.

“After what you just did? I don’t think so,” he replied.

I leaned in for a kiss, stopping just short of our lips meeting, “I’m sorry but why did you set it out if you wanted me to to wait?” I countered.

“I wanted to explain the gift a little, it’s 2 parts. This is the first and I thought it’d better if I said that before you opened it and had to fake a thank you. Or worse you went and said something to Donna and she called to yell at me.”

I kissed him then wrapping my arms around his neck because it was sweet how much though he had put into this gift.

“Wait,” I said pulling away, “ You thought I’d complain to Donna or Rachel before I said something to your face it the gift was crappy?”

“No but when they ask what I got you, they might think its something that it’s not. And I would’ve told them but I wanted to this on my own because you deserve it.”

“Well Grayson, that’s so sweet.”

“Happy Earth Birthday Kory,” Dick in between kisses and holding the last one.

The kiss get deeper as he rolls me onto my back and makes his way down until he’s between my thighs and pushing them open for him. He keeps eye contact as he licks between my folds and I shiver.

“Fuck Dick!” I say because that was hot.

“Your other gift from me is this but this is also for me,” he simply states and goes back to eating my wet pussy.

I grab a fist full of hair and pull him closer, who am I to object to this because he sure as fuck knows what his doing down there. Alternating between suck my clit and lips hard then soft, making them swell for later pleasures.

“Dick, that feels so good. Yes! Like that right there!” I pant, “Can’t take it.”

He’s solely focus on my licking my clit starting hard but slow. Building up that release and has me close to begging.

“Fuuuccck, Dick make me cum.”

He starts to suck on my clit but not hard enough for my release.

I cave “Please, I need to cum.”

I knew he was hold back because fuck my back arches off the bed, my feet plant bringing my hips up closer to Dick faces.

I’m lost in my haze I don’t how Dick manage to roll us and I’m now sitting on my face. Him licking away at my release and seeming to himself. As I try to catch my breaths, I try to push off him but his arms lock around my waist and pull me back onto his face as he sucks on my pussy lip again.

“Keep going then,” I say. Leaning forward to grab the headboard and ride his face. Dick’s grip loosens and is just as talented in this position.

No words just sounds escape my mouth from the way he’s eating me out right now, and has me cumming on his face for the second time this morning. I roll off him easily breaking his grip this time because I need a moment to breath.

He rolls over onto his knees, licking his mouth as he watch me catch my breath.

“I hope you like the present I got you as much the ones your getting now,” he says.

“You’re to have to wait until I get both before I decide.”

He pulls at my legs so I’m no longer leaning on the headboard but right below him. He opens my legs without resistance and lines up.

“Look forward to hearing the verdict,” he says.

I laugh a little, wrapping my legs around him so know that I want him in me. He’s slow and steady at first but as he speeds up and pushes into me harder he leans forward for a kiss steal the noises of pleasure his giving me.

Breaking the kiss he begins to whisper in my ear, “I love you Kory. Fuck, I’ve loved since that first training session and that has done nothing but grow.”

I came after that, Dick shortly after and I was sensitive that the feel his release had me cum again. I was too spent to get up so Dick went and got a cloth to clean us up. The short moment he was gone I was so content with the after glow, I started to actually glow when Dick noticed he smiled.

“Once you stop glowing and can walk we should go out for a birthday brunch,” he said.

“I can walk but waiting until after the glow is smart,” I retorted.

After brunch we wondered into an art gallery Dick had pointed out on the wall back to the tower. The space was large with bright lights and gave a cheery feeling, it made me question of this had been a random stop on my our walk. They were giving out champagne and Dick and I took a glass, sipping as we made our way around the gallery.

“This art is interesting,” I said to Dick.

“Is it similar to the art on Tamaran, in any way?” He asked

“Some of the paintings, like the landscape that just model what’s being painted. On Tamaran there’s many landscapes and Royal portrait around the palace, and a few head sculptures. I don’t recall other much of the art found in non royal places.”

With that sad thought I finished off my drink and headed to the bathroom, Dick followed.

“Kory, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you sad,” he said before I made it through the door.

“You didn’t, I promise,” I said.

When I came out Dick was waiting with a glass of water, some snacks and a smile.

“Is this for me?” I asked smiling.

He nodded, “I want to put the smile back.”

I kissed him on the cheek, squeezing his arm and the water before we continued on our. We made it about 4 paintings before Dick had to run but to the bathroom, releasing he never actually went.

I continue on my own at his request. The next painting that reminded me of the Vegas star system. I could feel the smile spreading across my face.

“Beautiful piece isn’t it?”

I turned to find a short thin man with dark brown un kept hair, in a rumpled grey shirt and khaki.

“Yes,” I agreed trying to both not be rude and also ignore the man.

“It’s a shame the artist didn’t follow model it after earth’s galaxy. Would’ve been better don’t think you?” He trying to continue the conversation.

“All galaxies have their beauty,” I said countering.

“But our is the best, wouldn’t you say? That why all these outsider come here,” his tone getting rude.

I gave him a contempt smile and tried to walk away from this xenophobic conversation but the man grabbed my arm.

“Earth is the best planet and all these outsiders are changing it!” he said voice rising.

“Sir let me go,” I said firmly.

“Say it. Say you agree with me,” he demand.

He seemed to have to no intention of dropping his hand, so I dropped him instead. I toasted my arm up to break his hold and gave him a shove, harder then I meant, as he tumbled back he fell into a server.

“YOU,” he shouted from the ground.

Staff came from every direction to help the 2 up from the ground. Security asking if everybody was alright and what happened.

“I was just discussing art and she pushed me out of the way,” he claimed.

“I was looking at this painting and he came up to me started making xenophobic comments, and when I tried to leave he grabbed and wouldn’t let go,” I stated.

Dick came out of nowhere and was helping the server, a young woman, to get back on her feet before coming to my side.

“She telling the truth,” the server said, “I was walking around saw her alone at the painting and saw the plate she was holding. I went to get from her but someone stopped me for a drink and when I turned back the 2 of them were there. She didn’t look like she liked the conversation and when she went to leave he grabbed her.”

A staff woman who looked like she was charge, touch her and pointed to man and than to the door. Security quick grabbed hold of the man and he was whisked out the door.

“I’m so sorry miss?”

“You can call me Kory.”

“Miss. Kory. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“No it wasn’t your fault.”

“We’ll if that changes please let me know,” she turned and focused on Dick, “Mr. Grayson I’m so glad I got to see you again. You forgot to check off whether you wanted to pick up your art or want it delivered.”

I looked to Dick confused. “Dick what is she talking about?”

“Mr. Grayson here purchased the painting here, Among the Stars, for his girlfriend as a birthday present isn’t that sweet? He described her as his North Star. However the painting has to stay in the gallery for another week to complete the collection.”

Dick cleared his throat and he stepped closer to me, as the woman looked at us for the first time.

“Oh is this …?” she trailed off as Dick nodded.

“Did I ruin …? I am so sorry! I had meant to call you this afternoon but since you’re here I thought, again so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he assured her and turned to me, “I meant for you to open the bill of sale this morning but we got distracted. And since we were passing the gallery I thought I’d show you the painting and see if I picked one you liked. Do you like it?”

“I love it Dick,” kissing his cheek.

“So,” the woman said, “Pick up or Delivery?”

“Delivery and please call before it leaves?”

“I will make a note. Thank you your business and again sorry about the surprise,” she said and left.

“This is so sweet Dick. It reminds of the Vega’s galaxy.”

“That was the hope. I know you’ve felt a bit lost over the past few month about losing the baby, and that when we have a baby you won’t be able to share some of the things from Tamaran you love. So when I came across this painting while looking for a gift I thought, maybe when you look at this you could feel like you’re in both places,” he said.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard say this much outside of speeches before mission. I felt my eyes start to tear up.

Dick phone chimed as I was about to respond.

“This better be an emergency,” he grumbled. As he read it his smiled returned. “Did you see everything you wanted?”

“Yes, why?”

“You’re final birthday surprise was just confirmed.”

“Another gift?” I asked. Dick said nothing as he led us to the door and back to the tower.

Dick had been silently refusing to answer my questions about the surprise gift. As the door opened I stepped out to him blocking his path.

“Dick what is this surprise? You’ve already given me an amazing painting, a lovely brunch, and 4 or-”

He cut me off with a kiss and started walking me backwards through the short hallway before spinning me around.

“SURPRISE!!!” They all shouted.

Rachel, Gar, Tim, Donna, Connor and Krypto were all standing under a banner that read Happy Earth Birthday Kory! in purple and gold paint.

“You guys,” was all I could say. They all vaguely claimed to be busy to this weekend to celebrate when I had asked them. Yes I’d been a little disappointed and grew to love the idea of celebrating birthdays the way earth does, with just close family and friends.

This was the first time we had all been together in awhile. The first couple of months when they found out about losing the baby, they each stopped by to check in with Dick and I. I swear Dick and Donna created a schedule, someone was there every few days but I’m glad Dick got just as much support that he was giving me, and Donna got a break from our grief.

“So what we’re saying about the gifts you’ve already received?” Gar teased.

“Oh! Dick just showed me the painting he found that looks like the Tamarean star system Vega. For the times I might be a little home sick.”

“Who knew Dick could be so sweet,”’ Connor continued to tease bumping Gard shoulder.

“Be more like Kory and you’d know,” Dick countered, “but she one of s kind. So I guess you’re out of luck.”

“I got to add an Amazonian flower to my greenhouse,” I said, “and it’s been thriving for 3 weeks.”

Recapping my earth birthday celebration to my alien gardening group. There were 6 of us who meet up monthly to discuss our experiences with gardening plant from our home world and Earth plants.

Last year for my birthday Connor had brought us to this Out of this World bar he learned was an alien focused place during his time with Superman. Often found in many cities if you knew where to look. They respect the age requirement of the person home world, so they would o my serve Dick, Donna, and I but allowed to Rachel, Gar, and Tim. Connor put up a bit of an argument stating that he was also Kryptontian but he still didn’t meet their age requirement.

“Sound like these Earth Birthdays are something but I still think how they count their ages weird,” Abby states, “only basing on the revolution of the sun. And not including moon cycles is just odd.”

“It’s not too late to change it, they’ve changed it before,” joked Mayx.

“I’m going to get another drink, before I have to rehash this debate again,” I say as I get up and suddenly feel a dizzy and grab the back of the booth.

“You alright Kory?” Hailee asks.

“Maybe you should just get some water?” Ciree suggests.

“I’m fine but waters probably a good idea.”

As I make my way to bar for some water I text Dick asking him to pick me up early.

“Hey, Kory another round?”

“Just a glass of water please Mike.”

He sets my water down on a napkin with some writing on it: another 2 heat based.

I nod as I drink my water and spill some in the counter, snugging his message. “I’m so sorry Mike I’m not what’s wrong with me today.”

“Trust water is the best thing that can be spilled on this counter,” he jokes.

I close out my tab and head back to my gardening group, “I’m going head out as soon as Dick gets here.”

“Well since your golden retriever just walked in have a good night,” Abby teases as she give Dick a nod hello.

“You really should join us one this nights Dick,” Mayx suggests.

“Thanks but since I’ve killed a cactus, I think I’m a lost cause,” Dick reply’s, “beside this is Kory’s space not mine.”

I stand leave and again feel dizzy, I grab onto Dick arm and he immediately grips me arms to steady me.

“Kory?” he worries.

“I’m alright,” I says after a moment, “just got a little dizzy again.”

“Again?” He asks.

“I just got a little dizzy earlier, but I’ll be fine. I’m going to lay down when we home.”

“Ok, let’s go,” he says leading with his arm around my waist to the car.

“That’s all the information I got: 2 more aliens with heat based abilities have gone missing,” I tell Dick the next morning over coffee. He’s been hovering all morning, still worried and even suggesting we call Dr. Haz’le but I feel fine today.

“Maybe we should look at the security footage from where the others last know locations we’ll see something different this time,” I suggest, “or we can go there and see if we find something new?”

“Are you feeling up to that?”

“Dick, I swear to X’hal if you ask me that one more time,” I talk a deep breathe. “You what know I’m going to stay here and monitor security and test heat signatures . Maybe will get an idea of how these guys are hiding them.”

I make my way towards the door not waiting for a argument.

“Kory maybe I should go, it could be a trap. You’re an alien with heat based abilities, similar to those that have gone missing not because I don’t think you can handle yourself,” Dick states.

“Nice try Grayson, that’s the exact reason I should go and if it is a trap I have total faith that you’d find me,” I says with a smile.

“Absolutely not!”

“It’s just recon Dick. We can have the team on standby.”

“Or I go with you and the team can track us both and if something happens they can be there within second.”

“Fine, we’ll both go.”

Gar and Rachel were excited to do a mission with us but after explaining they’d be monitoring security and heat readings as backup they were less excited.

“Alright we have your locations,” says Gar through the coms, “Kory have we ever checked your thermal imaging before, cause your off the charts right now.”

“Let me see,” Rachel says, “Gar’s right. Remember a few years ago at Star labs, they checks and it was nowhere near this level.”

“Korys alway been hot,” Dick says, “ Now can we focus, one of these stores must be used to vet for what they’re looking for.”

We walk down the street like a couple looking to do some shopping, I reach for Dick hand.

“That being alien with heat abilities, and why were using Kory as bait,” Rachel commented.

“Yes,” I say the same time Dick says “No.”

“Korys not bait, this is recon only,” Dick firmly states holding the door of our third store.

“We’ll don’t you the two of you make a lovely couple!” a cheery store lady says pulling a clips from behind her back, “my name is Glenda. Now before we get started I just have a few questions: what days the wedding?”

We’ve walked into a bridal shop.

“We haven’t picked one yet, we’re looking to get some estimates before deciding on the budget of attire,” response quickly. Touching Dick shoulder hoping he’ll snap out of whatever state he’s in.

“We’ve lost visual. Thermal scans show at least 5 people in the building,” Rachel tells us through chuckles.

“Alright,” she notes rapidly fire the questions from her list “what styles would you prefer?”

“I … I don’t know.”

“Would you be open to colours other then white?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want your bridesmaids in a similar style and how many do you have?”

“No and maybe 3?”

“Is there a chance that your pregnant?”

“Um,” I say at the touchy topic.

“Is there a way we can just look around and let you know what we like to answer these questions,” Dick asks as he squeezes my hand.

“Of course please come find me when you’re ready.”

We make our way to some racks and pretend to shift through them.

“Hey, are you okay?” Dick asks.

“Yeah, the question just through me,” I says.

The lights flickered just then.

“Sorry about that folks, old building couldn’t handle the power surges like it used to,” Glenda calls. “Please enjoy some of the complimentary champagne.”

“Was that a power surge?” dick asks Gar and Rachel.

“Looks like it was something. I’ll keep looking into it,” Gar said.

I flipped through some more dresses with Dick, and Glenda came over with a flute of champagne and hand each of us one. Pulling the clipboard from under arm preventing any chance of protest she asks, “So find any styles you like?”

“This one,” I say pulling out the in my hand.

“Ah the ball gown is popular with those that wish to look like a princess on their wedding day. Cheers,” she says looking at our full glasses.

Dick and I look at each and take a snip. Glenda looks directly, “now why don’t you pick a few more you like before try them on and get a feel for them. I’ll be back in a few minutes for the other dresses, and let me know when your ready for a refill.”

“Thank you Glenda,” I say taking another sip the champagne.

“Gar can we get an update on that power surge?” Dick ask.

There’s no answer as I fake interest in a few more dress, pulling them and having Dick look at them.

“Let’s look at some them over by the window,” I say, hoping we can get in touch with Gar and Rachel. Dick follows behind me.

As we reach the rack, I stumble a little lightheaded. Dick catches me and leads me over to a black viewing couch.

“Kory?”

“Is she alright?” Glenda asked appearing behind Dick.

“Kory, hey look at me,” he says., “keep you’re eyes open.”

I try to force them open to look at him, but they’re so heavy. The last thing I see is the worry in Dick’s eyes.

Dick

“Kory, Kory. Wake up, please wake up,” I says gently shaking her shoulders. I reach for her neck to get a pulse and take breath feeling its still there.

As I reach around for my phone to call Gar and Rachel, I don’t know why the com aren’t working, I feel a sting in my arm.

“What the fuck?” asking Glenda as I jerk away from the needle she jammed in my arm but she’s already pushed down the syringe.

“Thank you for bringing her to us. We’ll take it from here,” she states, “ move aside.”

I stand, moving in front of Kory, “she’s not going anywhere with you.”

“I think she is. We tend to water down the dosage with champagne but since you didn’t drink enough to affect you. That shot to your arm wasn’t as watered down,” Glenda says.

“Take me in her place,” I says, my words slurring a bit. Where are Gar and Rachel?

“Sadly you cannot provide what we want from her,” she shaking her head.

“Wwhhat … do you … wannnt with her?” I says watching her coworkers for any movement I won’t let them take her.

“Doesn’t matter you won’t be awake long enough.”

She’s right, I can’t stay awake anymore, I fall to ground against my will; my body and brain not listening as I scream at it to move to protect Kory.

“Dick, WAKE UP,” I hear Rachel scream.

I felt as if I was shocked, “where’s Kory?”

Rachel and Gar were front of me, Gar spoke “We don’t know. Whoever these people are, they mirrored heat signatures during the supposed power surge and had two people shift into you two, and leave the store and disappear.”

“Korys heat signature, you said it was off the charts. Can we track it?”

“It’s gone. After we’d tried to fix the coms and calling you a few times but nothing was going through. I’m sorry did but they must’ve taken her to wherever the others are to hide it,” Rachel tells me.

“How’d to find me?” I ask.

“Bruce’s tracker gave us the area, his sense of smell,” pointing to Gar “and me sensing you we found you. We’re about 5 block away from the store we lost sight of you,” Rachel says.

I move to get up, and head in the directions back to the store to get answers.

“How long was out?”

“Couple hours,” Gar says.

“So they couldn’t have gone far,” I say, “but they must’ve headed under ground. Likely the only way to hide abnormal heat signatures.”

“Where are you going? Cause we’re going to need information about who took her and a plan to get her back,” Rachel reasons.

Gar grabs my shoulder, “Connor and Donna are back at the tower doing a speedy deep dive into the stores background. We can make a plan with what they’ve found and you can tells us what happened before we found you.”

I stop understanding his reasoning.

“We’ll get her back Dick,” Rachel says. I nod at there words, knowing Kory would want us to make a plan before trying to save her.

Rachel creates a portal for us, something she learned since being more accepting of her powers, and we walk into the tower.

Donna and Connor turn to us, Donna comes over and squeezes me in a tight a hug, “we’ll get her back Dick.”

“Here’s what we found: the business is obviously a front, only been there a few months, but according to the satellite images the building has advanced tech built into it,” Connor tells us. “The building can mirror bodies to make it appear that people are still there when they’re not and shapeshifters wearing that same tech can model people leaving. And the walls are lined with lead.”

“The mirroring only works temporarily and takes a huge amount of power. The building essentially has there own power grid to maintain that, so wherever they’ve taken Kory and the others likely are far,” Donna says.

“They’re probably underground to and using their tech to hide heat signatures,” I say.

“That’s what we were thinking,” Donna agrees. “Before Gar left he suggested we use Bruce’s satellite to pull up previous thermal image of the missing aliens, scan the areas around the store to see if we can weed out how they’re hiding them.”

“Did you find any of them?” Rachel asks.

“We didn’t find but when we looked for Kory’s we found something,” Connor said looking to Donna.

“What?” I ask.

“Korys heat signatures were off the charts today,” Donna continued “so we looked back to see if this has been consistent for her.”

“Guessing by that sentence, Kory’s s has spike recently,” Gar says.

“Yes,” Donna says, looking at me until I make eye contact, “and this spike also happened a few months ago Dick. We’re pretty sure they’ve been monitoring Kory, more her powers, for awhile and when they saw this spike again, they wanted to know the how and why.”

“Fuck,” I say.

Kory

I wake up with a killer head ache and realize I can’t move my arms or legs.

“Good your awake!” That cheer voice says, “now if you could answer some brief questions we can get started.”

I turn to look at the voice, it’s Glenda from that shop Dick and I were searching for clues to the missing aliens. So I guess we found it.

“Where’s Dick?” I ask.

“He’s not of importance,” she says brushing off my question, “now a few months ago we noticed a spike in your heat signature and when you use your fire abilities. The spike lasted for a few weeks then dropped, and recently spiked again. Can you tell me why?”

“How long have you been watching me?”

“Please answer the question. If you don’t know the answer we’ll have run every test to find the answer.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say and begin to pull at my restraints and met with a painful zap.

“Please refrain from doing that and tell me why there has been a spike in you abilities,” she says tapping away on tablet.

“There’s been no spike,” I say, pulling again and met with a stronger zap. “Fuck! Why does it matter to you?”

“Because,” says a male voice, “these spikes have been reported in other galaxies just before a star dies and kills every planet in a supernova.”

“You,” I says. It’s the short guy from the art gallery who ruined my earth birthday surprise from Dick.

“Starfire, if you do not know the cause of these reading,” he continues “you should be working with us to helps us prevent you from going supernova and killing everyone on the planet.”

“Does it looks like I’m dying?” I ask annoyed.

“We understand that Tamaraneans have a longer life span than human and looks can be deceiving. So maybe this is what your people do to save your planet; leave to live out your last few years on another, and keep Tamara’s safe from dying stars.”

“That is the stupidity fucking thins I’ve ever heard,” I say. I get zapped again as I pull on my restraints.

“You should stop that. The table and restraints are designed to administer a shock when it sense resistance. And the shocks will only increase each time, including when it sense your abilities,” he informs me.

“And what gives you the confidence that you know my abilities well enough to know this room can hold me?” I say, my eyes and skin starting to glow with starfire because now I’m pissed.

He looks to Glenda and nods.

The next shock feels more like a tickle but it’s cold and it’s that cold that’s painful.

“I used to work for Mr. Luther before his death on Project Starfire. During that time I learned a lot about about you and once that project was completed, Mr. Luther asked me to continue researching you. Wondering if your power could rival that of Superman, work I’ve continued to work on for about the past 2 years, without any notable change until the last 5 months. Now tell me what changed?”

“I don’t know,” I say keeping my face neutral.

I was pregnant five months ago, and I realize I’m pregnant again, that’s what the changes have been. However they’ve been monitoring me, they must have detect it.

“I don’t appreciate lying Miss. Anders,” he says coldly, using my name for the first time. He walks over to Glenda and takes the tablet out of her hand and presses a few keys.

I’m hit with that cold shock again, this time longer and I scream.

“Now tell me what changed to cause the spikes?” he says calmly.

“Fuck you.”

“Set the shock to run for 3 minutes intervals every 15 minutes and see how her abilities react. Increase the interval to 5 minutes in an hour. If she won’t tell us we’ll run every test we’ve run on the others until we see the change,” he tells Glenda.

“But sir, the others didn’t survive all the tests,” Glenda states.

Dick and the team will find us, speaking silently to myself and our baby, we just have to hold until then.

“She will,” he states as they leave the room and the shocks start.

Dick

It likely wouldn’t be long before they learn Kory was pregnant with them looking for possible changes to her body to cause energy spikes.

I would do anything to get Kory and put baby back and I warned the team of this before we left the tower.

The team and I cut the power to the store and entered through the back. There were at least 3 employees, all of whom were there when Kory was taken, and we took them by surprise quickly. Rachel, Donna, and I spoke to them while Gar, Gar, and Tim who was for caught up on our way there, searched for clues.

“Now you can tell us where Kory nicely or one of my friend here is going to take the information,” I tell them.

“She’s dangerous right now but we’re going to help her. She needs to be with us,” one lady says.

“Dangerous?” Rachel asks.

“Her abilities are unstable, spiking and dropping in the past couple of months. She could kill the planet,” another lady says.

“Where is she?” I ask again trying to be patient but when it comes to Kory’s safety that has never been my strong suit.

“She must be stabilize,” the First Lady states.

“Hey I think I found something,” Gar calls.

“Stay on them,” I tell Donna and Rachel.

I make my way over to Gar, Tim, and Connor hovered over a tablet moving along the back wall.

“What is it?”

“There’s something behind the wall but there’s also something in the wall that were not sure happen if just created an opening,” Gar says.

“How long would it take to find the opening?” I ask anxiously.

“We don’t know,” Tim answers.

“We can’t wait for uncertainty,” I turn to ask Rachel to pull the information from the women’s mind, “Raven.”

I hear Rachel say “No” as the ground begins to shake. I grabbed the counter to catch my balance.

When the shaking stops I look back the guys and look towards Donna and Rachel. Donna is holding Rachel up, she looks like she in pain and when she looks at me I know it’s not her pain she feels but Kory’s.

“No,” I whisper back.

Kory

After an hour and a half of their shocks I feel it. That same pain I felt when I lost our baby the first time, my eyes start to tear.

I let the pain of losing her and the pain of the shock flow through me, combining it with my anger at this lab what they’ve done. I call my all my Starfire needing to let this pain and anger out, the pain for losing my baby again is overwhelming.

The explosion is a mini supernova; breaking my restraints and burning everything in the lab. I roll off the table, hugging myself and let the tears fall freely for how long I’m not sure.

“Kory? Kory!?” I hear familiar voices calling my name and start to get up. Making my way through the burned lab leaning against the wall as I go.

“Rachel?”

She’s the first one I see. Dick is right behind her, he pushing past to her and I fall into him, his arms wrapping tightly around me.

“Dick!” I cry into his shoulder.

“I got you. I got you Kory,” he says into my ear.

“Dick I,” I pull away to look into his eyes, I have to tell him “I … I was.”

Looking down I see one of my arms is still hugging my torso. Dick places a hand on my arm and I look up at him.

“I know,” he tells me, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

“How?”

“While searching for you we’d figured it out and Rachel felt your pain,” he says, “the same pain as before.”

I look towards the rest of the team, a mix of relief and sadness across their faces.

“Let’s go home,” Dick says standing pulling me up with him. When we’re standing me pick me up into his arms.

“Clear any of the remaining hard drives, and set up a virus’s for any computer that tries to access the files remotely,” he tells the rest of team as we leave.

#titans #dcu titans #dick grayson #koriand'r #kory anders #dc titans #starfire #dickkory #titansedit #nightwing #dickkori #dick x kory #tv: titans #donna troy #rachel roth #gar logan #beast boy #raven

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saucy-sassy-sparkly · 2 years

Text

Moments: Four

Author's Note: Darlings, here she is: part four. Part five is mostly drafted so we’re not finished yet ;)

Pairing: Chris (buzzcut era) Evans x reader

Word Count 6.7k

italics are flashbacks (except the beginning rambling), and bold are text.

Moments Masterlist

Four: 2012, Prague

The older we get, the more we come to appreciate the little things…

The stolen hour in your schedule for coffee and catching up with a friend.

The relief of warm socks, fresh out of the dryer, on a cold winter evening.

The taste of your mom’s chicken noodle soup when you feel like shit.

The warmth of a hug from your grandfather.

The smile a memory can give you, even when the moments around it hurt.

Those are the things that matter; creating a life made up of moments that fill your soul.

“Go again,” Chris rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath while he waited for everyone to reset. It was the third time they’d rehearsed this scene today and the stunt coordinators still weren’t happy. His back was covered in sweat and he was panting while he quietly embraced the few moments to catch his breath. He waited for the go signal, watching his castmates take directions and nod, feeling grateful that no one was approaching him. On the signal, he artfully twirled his fake ax and then charged at the oncoming foes, batting several out of the way quickly in a perfectly choreographed fight.

He ducked, struck, rolled, and attacked for several minutes, working his way from one end of the faux tunnel to another. When he did this on set, it would be darker and he’d have on far more- his T-shirt allowed him to move easily now but he knew he’d have to accommodate the bulk of the winter clothes his character- Curtis- would be in. Right now, in the lights of the rehearsal space, he could focus on each move he had to make and reciprocate appropriately. Chris was often grateful that fight scenes hardly had dialogue for good reason– he was out of breath by the time each sequence was done.

By the fifth time they reset and ran the sequence, the stunt coordinators were finally happy, which made Chris and his cast mates happy: that meant the end of the day. They’d been rehearsing all of the various technical sequences all day— all week in fact— and Chris was sore and tired. A hot shower, cold beer, and a cheeseburger from room service were calling his name. He could indulge tonight before a long-awaited day off from rehearsals. He’d been here a month and it was only the third full day off; he was hoping he finally had the energy to do a little sightseeing.

Y/N’s hand was cramping from the frantic notes she scribbled in her notebook. The speaker clicked through his slides at a ridiculously fast pace while she tried to make notes on best practices and new research to take back to her practice in DC. Because she was unmarried and childfree, she and two of her older colleagues– the one and only man, Keith, in their practice with college-aged children who she’d hardly spoken to, and a woman, Rachel, in her 50s who’d never married– had been voluntold that they would attend the annual International Psychology Conference in Prague. The other four women in her practice had young children and it was “hard to get away”.

So, Y/N had decided to take it as an adventure. She’d taken an additional week off of work to get to tour Prague. She’d flown out with Keith and Rachel on Monday evening and arrived in time to drop their bags at the hotel and attend the first series of lectures. On the flight, they’d spent the first 90 minutes going through the conference brochure and deciding which items would best suit their practice and who would attend each. The rest of the flight, while Keith napped, had been used for Rachel to explain to Y/N all the ways the other women in the practice were rich, selfish bitches that just wanted to make other people do things they didn’t want to.

Y/N was still new to the practice– new to the career in general. She’d been hired nine months ago after finishing her graduate degree and interviewing with several practices in the DC area. She’d fallen in love with this practice that was the #1 recommended practice for women and children experiencing abuse or homelessness in the DC area; when they’d offered her the job, she was over the moon. Her clients ranged from children to teens, from play therapy to talk therapy, and filled her heart knowing she spent her days helping others.

When she’d shared this with Rachel, Rachel had sighed, rolled her eyes, taken a huge gulp of her vodka tonic, and said, “You’re so sweet and inexperienced.”

The more time she spent with Rachel, the more she thought that maybe Rachel was the bitch…

“You should’ve brought a laptop,” the woman next to her whispered when Y/N dropped her pen to flex her hand a few times. She offered a half-hearted smile in return before beginning a flurry of more notes. By the time the speaker was finished, she’d covered the front and back of half a spiral notebook. It was filled with her scribbles from the whole week: each speaker, their background, their contact information, their research, their insight… She'd take it back to her hotel room and transcribe it neatly into a second spiral notebook that she would keep on her well-organized office shelf with all the other meticulously kept notebooks from college and grad school.

She met with Keith and Rachel to walk back to the hotel; Keith was clicking through his Blackberry, presumably messaging his wife as he had most days at the end of the conference, while Rachel had started talking about dinner. For the last four nights, they’d eaten together, chatted about the speakers they saw, and then retired to their rooms alone. Y/N didn’t mind Keith so much; he reminded her of her Uncle Chuck– he was kind and funny and minded his own business. Rachel was tiresome but intelligent; she’d tried to convince Y/N to go out in the evenings for a drink but she’d politely declined each time.

She was looking forward to the week by herself. She’d convinced her boss to let her stay the week– work would pay for her plane tickets while she had to cover the additional week of hotel stay on her own. That seemed like a fair compromise since they’d paid for her hotel and food for the nights she was there on business. Y/N hadn't allowed herself any kind of real celebration after getting her graduate degree; she’d just jumped straight into job hunting and her career. It was time to take a break and enjoy herself. This was her first vacation alone… ever… and she was more than ready to take in Prague in the spring.

“Want to meet in the lobby at 6 and go for dinner?” Rachel asked as they approached the hotel.

Keith shook his head, “I’m going to get room service and finish packing.”

Rachel turned to Y/N who offered a tight smile… she could do one more meal with Rachel before a week alone so she agreed quietly as they approached the elevator bank.

Chris had disembarked the shuttle from the studio and lumbered in the back entrance of the hotel with his cast mates; they chatted casually as they made their way to the elevator banks. An elevator arrived just a few moments later and people clambered in, quickly filling the space. Chris waved them on, not feeling like spending another second cramped in with the other sweaty, exhausted actors. He stood alone waiting for the next car to arrive when the click of high heels on the tiled floor alerted him to someone approaching.

Three figures– a barrel-chested man, a short, middle-aged woman, and a lithe woman about his age– stopped and reached for the elevator call button. It was already lit up from Chris, but the youngest woman tapped it once for good measure and then stepped back and away from it. Chris kept his eyes downcast, trying not to be noticed or engage in conversation. The last thing he had the energy to do was engage in appropriate social banter with strangers. It was hard enough before he became recognizable; now that he had a superhero gig under his belt, it was almost impossible to avoid small talk and autographs once he made eye contact.

That said, from where she stood a few feet beside and in front of him, he struggled not to notice the curve of the young woman’s legs or the way her heels accentuated them in her business casual outfit.

The elevator arrived and Chris stepped back to let people exit, his eyes still downcast and then gestures to his companions. The older woman walked by him swiftly without a word, the man offered him a curt nod, and the youngest woman said a quiet, “thanks,” as she stepped in front of him where his eyes were again drawn to her curves.

He moved quickly around the young woman and into the back corner where he could try to hide; the other woman asked, “What floor?”

“Seven, please.”

“Easy enough,” there was laughter in her tone when he realized she’d already hit seven for all of them.

She backed away from the buttons and started to talk to the younger woman next to her, asking about dinner. Her companion had moved back beside Chris to lean against the back of the elevator to surreptitiously lift each foot and roll her ankle.

They still hadn’t made eye contact– but as the floors quietly passed and he watched her move on to ease out of her shoe just enough to flex her foot. She talked quietly with her friend, making plans to meet back downstairs in a few hours.

When the conversation lulled, Chris couldn’t help himself, “I don’t know how people don’t break more ankles in heels,” he gestured at her feet. “Seems awful.”

“For the right shoe or the right occasion I’ll take the pain, but I regret my decision,” she started to turn to him but was distracted when the other woman cut in, “is it your ankle again?”

“Yeah,” the younger replied, “I have an old injury that sometimes acts up when I wear heels too much. I think walking on the cobblestones is getting to me.”

The elevator dinged quietly to signal arriving at the floor and Rachel stepped out, followed by Y/N, then Keith, and then Chris. Keith had quietly said goodbye as the elevator doors were opening and Y/N had already wished him a safe flight while Rachel promised to meet him in the lobby at 7:50 tomorrow morning.

Rachel had stopped in the middle of the hallway to talk to Y/N, effectively blocking Chris from going past in the thin halls of the historic building. “Excuse me,” he muttered quietly, trying to get their attention.

Y/N stepped out of the way without looking at Chris; her eyes were still trained on Rachel as she talked quickly about dinner. She hadn’t moved. Y/N grabbed her arm and started to pull her out of the middle of the hallway just as Chris had said, “can I just–” a little more forcefully than he intended.

“I’m moving,” Rachel snapped, looking up at him before her eyes got wide. “Oh God,” she gasped.

Chris wanted to squeeze his eyes shut in frustration. He knew that reaction. He knew what was coming.

“Oh my God!” She said again, louder this time as she reached for his arm, “You’re Captain America!”

He slowly turned, trying to calm his breathing and stop the sweat that had just started to trickle down his neck again. He was so uncomfortable in these moments. He never knew what to do, how to respond, how long to stand there, how to get out of it… He took in the woman speaking. She wasn’t old and wasn’t unattractive; she was probably in her 50s with copper hair and green eyes; she was short and thin and had on a little more makeup than she needed, was dressed in a tailored pantsuit, and was grinning ear to ear.

“My nephews just love your movie, do you think I could take a picture with you to send them? I took them to see it in theaters. They watch it every time they come over. I’m a big fan too, you’re wonderful.”

Rachel was blushing furiously and talking faster than normal.

Chris forced a smile, “sure, I’d be happy to.”

Rachel turned to Y/N and started to hand her phone over, “Y/N, can you take it?”

Y/N didn’t respond.

Chris finally turned his attention to look at the other woman in the hallway and his breath caught in his throat.

He could still see the teenager in her face, but she was a full-grown woman now. She was stunning– as beautiful as he’d found her in line at the lift, in the tattoo parlor, on the dance floor. Years in between had done nothing but add to her beauty. She’d filled out in the most luscious, delicious way; his eyes trailed all across her body and back to her eyes. Those eyes. The ones he’d been able to both light up and tear up.

His heart hammered harder in his chest while he stared at her– the woman he’d been convinced was the one that got away. The woman he’d hated himself for leaving that night. The woman he very consciously compared every other woman to.

“Chris,” she breathed. He sighed her name in return, both of them staring in silence.

“Shit, Y/N, do you know him?” Rachel practically squealed, looking between the two of them.

“What are you–”

“I’m here for a conference, are you working?”

Chris nodded, “we’re in rehearsals now, filming starts in a few days.”

“Hi, Y/N, what's going on?” Rachel interjected again and Y/N felt frustration coiling, ready to snap. Her emotions were on overdrive right now and the absolute last thing she wanted to do was talk to this woman.

“We met years ago,” she turned to Rachel, trying to keep her voice from shaking, “we were kids. It’s been…” she trailed off.

“We met 15 years ago.” Chris finished for her, turning to Rachel. “Let’s get you that picture.” He told her, taking her phone and flipping it to the new front-facing camera. He held it at arm’s length and they both smiled. Chris took a few and then handed the phone back to Rachel who was already texting her nephews. Chris and Y/N were still staring at each other, neither one of them able to come up with the right words.

“I’ll meet you at 6, Y/N,” Rachel finally looked up from her phone and glanced between the two of them. “I’m going to need a lot of details,” she smirked and Y/N didn’t have the brainpower to roll her eyes. She knew that dinner was going to be a barrage of nosy questions. For a therapist, Rachel was not good at respecting boundaries.

“Should we… I mean… Why don’t we…” Y/N tried several different starts but faltered each time. Her whole body was shaking, she was sweating, and she was so anxious. Y/N was fiddling with the strap of her bag on her shoulder; Chris had seen her do this each time they’d been together– her anxiety manifested in fidgets and lip biting. The lip biting, he remembered, was one habit he liked on her.

“What room are you in?”

“734.”

“I’m 718,” Chris gestured in the opposite direction that Rachel had just walked. Had they been staying just rooms apart for days and never seen each other? They walked quietly down the hall and stopped in front of Chris’s room. They were both lost in thought for several more seconds before he said, “Do you have to go to dinner with her?”

Y/N huffed a laugh before glancing down the hall to see that Rachel was gone, “I don’t particularly want to, but it’s her last night and I already agreed to it.”

Chris nodded, “How long are you here?”

“Another week,” her fidgeting continued.

Chris visibly brightened, “Are you staying here the whole time?” She nodded. “I’m off tomorrow, can I take you to breakfast?”

Y/N hesitated and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth making Chris’s heart skip. She stared at him, her eyes bouncing between his before she nodded, “yes,” she said quietly.

“I’ll come get you at 10,” he started to reach for her, to pull her in for a hug, but he hesitated. He grasped the strap of his backpack tighter and raked his eyes over her face for any signs of regret, or hesitation. She was still biting her lip and watching him carefully; for a long moment, she didn’t respond to him and finally said simply, “okay.”

“See you in the morning,” he watched her walk down the hall, no more than 10 rooms away. He tried not to watch her ass, he tried to focus on all of her from the curve of her neck to the sway of her hips. She glanced back at him as she pulled out her room key; for the first time, she offered him a real smile, and even from down the hall, he saw a blush rise in her cheeks.

He launched his bag across the room to his bed and strode right into the bathroom to crank on the shower. Chris’s mind was racing. She was here. Y/N was here. She was down the hall, right now, and had been for days. He stripped out of the sweats and T-shirt sticking to his body and stepped into the warm water; he probably should’ve gone with a cold shower after seeing her; his whole body was tingling and excited. He was sweating again, he was anxious, and he was coursing with adrenaline.

He was positive, absolutely certain, he’d never have a chance to see her again. When he’d walked out of her DC apartment that night in a fit of stubborn stupidity, he’d hated himself every step of the way…

Chris shoved open the last door and let the cool night air hit him in the face. He couldn’t believe how stupid he was. How had he not seen it was her the moment his eyes fell on her? How had he taken this long to realize that it was Y/N? And more importantly, how was he a big enough dick that he’d just walked out on her after chasing her down and forcing his way into her apartment tonight.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. No wonder she’d rejected him. No wonder she's pushed him away. He was impulsive and expected her to jump into his arms with one big gesture. He’d expected that even after he’d misled her about Jessica. Even after he’d spent two hours up against her and flirting with her without realizing who she was. And shit, the comment about other women…

Had fame really done this to him? He had a little taste of being famous with one big movie and it had gone to his head this fast? Did he really have his head so far up his own ass that he didn’t realize the girl of his dreams was standing in front of him? He’d been thinking about her for years– what the fuck was wrong with him? How… HOW had he not realized? He hadn’t been up close to her in seven years but it didn’t mean he hadn’t pictured her, hadn’t seen her pictures….

Chris was cocky, that wasn’t a secret. He knew he was hot shit, he knew that women fell at his feet, and he knew that he enjoyed their attention. He bought them drinks, took them to bed, and didn’t call because he didn’t have to… there was always someone else. But never who he wanted.

Because she’d walked out of that shitty little Boston apartment and he hadn’t stopped comparing every woman’s laugh to hers. He’d followed her basketball career, showing up at any game in LA or Boston without her knowing. He’d watched her stats and seen her success. He’d been proud to see her play live, hiding in the upper levels of stadiums to avoid being noticed, dragging his brother or sisters along whenever he could to be able to blame them if anyone asked why he was there. They’d never asked why they were there. But they’d cornered him one Christmas after they’d all talked and all realized that they’d all been dragged to women’s collegiate basketball games… and always the same team… and then Scott had gotten on the school’s website and recognized that one face from when they were teenagers…

His family knew. His close friends knew. They all knew how bad Chris had it for Y/N.

And yet here he fucking was, standing outside her apartment after he’d stormed out for absolutely no good reason.

He should go back in; he should walk back up the stairs to pound on the door and demand she open it.

But he didn’t.

He sat down on the curb, grateful it was late and there were only a few passing cars on this side street. Chris sat on the curb, his head in his hands, and loathed every part of his being. He decided to sit out here and wait for her to come out. She’d have to leave eventually and he would be here to grovel. He wouldn’t make excuses, he’d be honest– that he was a self-centered asshat who didn’t know his head from his ass and should’ve known immediately who she was.

It wasn’t until almost an hour later when Y/N’s friends, including Annie who he recognized from that fateful weekend and the weeks after, came stumbling out of a cab.

“Christopher Evans,” she slurred, pointing a finger at him as the other girls piled out and into the building, “you hurt her again, didn’t you.”

“Annie,” he said in acknowledgment, not responding to the rest of her statement.

“You’re a dick.” She walked by him and towards the door. He hadn’t realized she’d seen him in there too; of course, she had. He followed her to the door when she whipped around, “You will not come in here!”

“I shouldn’t have walked out on her, please, Annie.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him, watching him beg. She’d done it before, sitting in that park, listening to him plead his case. She had the same look on her face then– one that he couldn’t read; he took a step towards her.

“Annie,” he pleaded, “I know I messed up last time, I don’t want to do it again. I’m not dating anyone, I’m entirely single. I compare her kisses to everyone I’ve ever kissed. Let me go back up there and fix this before it’s too late. I can fix this.”

“Fuck you,” Her words were venomous– a best friend defending her territory– but her tone was a purr; Chris took a startled step back as she prowled towards him. She closed the gap between them quickly though and put her hands on his chest. “C’mon, Evans,” her voice was low, and her hand was dragging across his pecs.

“What the hell, Annie,” he kept walking backward, stumbling over the curb and into the street.

“You can fuck me instead,” she was keeping pace with him; “you can’t have her, I won’t let you near her, but I’ll let you fuck me.”

He threw his hands up in the air as far away from her as possible, “not what I’m here for, Annie, I’m just here for Y/N.”

“I think you just want to get your dick wet, and I can be that for you.”

“I’m out of here,” Chris mumbled, shoving his hands in his pocket and finishing the walk across the street to the other sidewalk. Annie watched him go and he didn’t look back– not at her. He looked back across the street and up at the window that was still lit… the one where the curtain fluttered and he watched a feminine figure disappear into the recesses of the room.

He sat in his room now in Prague picturing that night and the feelings that coursed through him. The residual regret and disgust in himself were present every time he allowed himself to think of that night and how he’d handled it. He stepped out of the shower and toweled off, pulling on sweats and a t-shirt and ordering room service in hopes that some food in his stomach and a beer in his hand would settle his mind to think about what he wanted to say to her tomorrow.

Y/N stared out the window of her room at the bustling city getting ready for a Friday evening. People were going home from work, headed to get drinks, and bringing children home from the park and school. People all around her were going about their business, but she couldn’t.

Chris was down the hall. The last time she’d seen him, it was his retreating form across R Street and down the corner where he’d disappeared and she’d never seen him again. She’d allowed herself to see his movies, and she didn’t run away from his image as she had after the last blow to her ego. She was happy for him and proud of him. She was grateful for those two special nights in Vermont and Boston that had made her feel good. Time had given her perspective to appreciate that they were special moments and to let them be what they were– fun and flirty and nothing more. That night he’d walked out of her apartment in DC had hurt the worst….

Annie charged into Y/N’s apartment, kicking off her heels and finding the girls sitting on Y/N’s kitchen floor eating Bagel Bites and chugging water, giggling over their recap of the night. Annie continued through the apartment to find Y/N curled up on the sofa in sweatpants and a Bucknell sweatshirt she hadn’t seen in ages.

“Y/N… what are you wearing,” Annie sighed, dropping on the sofa next to her and pinching the sweatshirt between her fingers. Y/N shrugged, not responding but tucking in on herself more. Annie saw the puffy eyes and quivering lip. “He’s not worth it.”

“I know.”

“He’s an ass just trying to get some ass.”

“I don’t think he was, Annie, I don’t think I should've pushed him.”

Annie shrugged, propping her feet on the coffee table, “If he can’t handle being challenged then he couldn't handle a relationship.”

“He just wanted so much so fast. He was ready to jump in and be something but earlier tonight…” Y/N trailed off and twisted the sleeve of the sweatshirt in her fingers. It didn’t smell like him anymore, but she hadn’t allowed herself to get rid of it. She’d always intended to give it back to him that night in Boston but she’d left it at Annie’s dorm and then it had all fallen apart. All these years later she kept it tucked in the back of her closet when she wanted to be reminded of him.

Annie huffed, “he just came onto me, Y/N. Forget him.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, “what?”

“Yeah, he just asked me to go home with him. He did it when he kept calling me in Boston too. I had to chase him into the street and tell him off!” She rolled her eyes, “he’s a pig.”

Tears started to stream down Y/N’s face again, “I can’t believe he’d do that.”

Annie shrugged, “do you want some Bagel Bites? I’m going to get some before they’re all gone.”

Y/N shook her head and got up off the sofa, retreating to her bedroom. Her friends had stayed the night, taking up spaces on the sofa, and Annie eventually came in to share Y/N’s bed. Everyone had gone home the next morning hungover and talking about going out that night, but Y/N had crawled back to her bed after she locked the door behind her and cried.

Annie would’ve teased her, but Y/N had always believed in love at first sight because of Chris. She’d never admitted that the feeling she got when she first giggled at him in the lift line– when he was blushing madly and they couldn't stop making eye contact– was a feeling she’d been chasing her entire life. No one had made her feel that again. She’d only ever felt it again twice more: the night in Boston while he touched her and kissed her and for a fleeting moment last night when he’d slid into the cab next to her– when she realized this might actually work out.

Over greasy McDonald’s breakfast (the perfect hangover cure), Annie had gone on and on about Chris, despite the looks Sasha and Jenna kept throwing at her when they saw tears welling in Y/N’s eyes. She’d finally relayed the story about their meetup in Boston, when he’d claimed it was to get Y/N’s number and talked to her but, according to Annie, he’d hit on her the whole time. She said the same thing happened in the street outside last night– that Chris had said he was waiting to take her home and that Y/N was far better off without that sleazy fuckboy.

On the way to the elevators, Y/N glanced at Chris’s door, hoping that fate would call him out to the hallway; when she sensed no movement behind it, she continued to the elevator and then the lobby where Rachel dragged her into the bustling streets and to a restaurant she’d had recommended to her by one of the bartenders.

Dinner was easy enough; Rachel relentlessly pried Y/N for details about how she knew the stupidly handsome Chris Evans well enough to leave them both speechless. Y/N dodged the questions for a while as Rachel continued to top off her wine and eventually, the story tumbled out of her. She couldn’t stop herself; she needed someone to talk to– her feelings were too raw and emotional– she started in Killington and ended in the hallway, filling in as many gaps between as Rachel listened carefully and responded, to Y/N’s surprise, supportively.

“Sounds like you’d be stupid not to give him a chance again. It seems like the universe is telling you that you have to.” Y/N finished the last medovnik and dropped her fork while Rachel continued. “I’ve only ever been in love once, and I didn’t feel half as excited to see her as you do when you talk about Chris.”

“I don’t know if I’m in love with him, I hardly know him,” she sat back in her seat, tossing her crumpled napkin on the table next to her dessert. “And I just… I can’t…” She kept dropping her sentence while avoiding eye contact with Rachel.

Like a good therapist, Rachel caught onto the deflection and pounced; “Sounds like you’ve got more on your mind.”

“I do.”

“Spill,” she leaned forward and propped her chin in her hands, “I have the company card to buy dinner and I’m not paying until you get it all out.”

“I can’t get past the Annie part.”

“That he hit on her?”

Y/N nodded, “I just can’t stop thinking about that– that he’d claimed he wanted me but would then go hit on Annie and try to take her home– twice.”

Rachel was quiet for a moment, “did you talk to Annie about it?”

“Yeah, but she always blew it off and called him names before she changed the subject.”

“Talk to her again, it’s been years now, see if she’ll talk about it. She was probably embarrassed or ashamed that she might’ve shown interest when you were clearly involved.”

Y/N paused, playing with the tablecloth, “We’re not really friends anymore.”

Rachel’s eyebrows shot up, “oh? Why’s that?”

“We had a falling out about six months after that night with Chris.” Rachel was silent as she let Y/N gather her thoughts and continue.

“She slept with my boyfriend.”

“Come again.”

Y/N nodded, “I met this guy Brandon pretty soon after the whole thing with Chris happened. I liked him, he wasn’t going to be the one but we had fun. We all went to a Halloween party, I got too drunk and my friends took me home. The next morning I went to Annie’s to return the shoes I’d worn out… and Brandon was leaving. We ran into each other on the street, he came clean immediately and was at least decent enough to be apologetic before I obviously ended things. I went up to confront Annie and she lied to my face. I walked out and never went back. I took the shoes with me.”

Rachel didn’t say anything for several long heartbeats before she said, “so you’re telling me that she slept with your boyfriend and lied to you and you’re concerned about what happened with her and Chris?”

“Yes.”

“Y/N, you know what happened with them.”

“Huh?”

“Sweetie, you’re smart. Nothing happened with her and Chris. She lied to you then too.”

“I don’t know, Rachel, before that night with Brandon she was my closest friend in the world, why would she have made that up?”

Rachel rolled her eyes but said nothing, flagging down the waiter for the check. They walked back to the hotel with Rachel running her mouth again, although this time, Y/N had more patience for it; it had been a while since she had someone she could talk to…

“I’m going to head to the bar for a nightcap,” Rachel said over her shoulder as she marched away, leaving Y/N at the elevators. “Good luck!”

Y/N spun her ring on her finger while she waited for the car to arrive and rode up alone and in silence to the seventh floor. She made her way slowly down the hallway, pausing again outside his door and hearing the low hum of the television from inside. She hesitated, raising her hand to knock before dropping it and scurrying to her room.

Once inside, she plopped on the bed and continued to play with her ring, twisting it over and over again while her mind coursed through every single second she’d ever spent in Chris’s presence.

In total, it was less than 48 hours.

What was she thinking, throwing around words like love and soulmates for someone she hardly knew? She knew him better from his IMDB profile than she knew him. This was just lust, right? It had to be just lust. Just wanting something she’d never had.

And yet…

She knew what it was like to see his passion spark when he talked about something or someone he loved. That hadn’t changed in any of the moments they spent together.

She knew what it was like to see him look deeply into her eyes and listen to her bare her soul about her fears of failure, her secret hopes to help those who couldn’t help themselves and never ever laugh at her.

She knew what it was like to feel the weight of his hand on her waist bring comfort and solace, even when her anxiety was spiking.

She knew what it was like to watch those blue eyes take in her lips and watch her carefully before he kissed her.

This couldn’t just be lust.

She groaned loudly and forced herself off the bed and into the bathroom to change into her soft, mauve pajamas. She washed the makeup off her face and brushed the wine out of her mouth, swishing the water around and trying to concentrate on the feeling of the water in her mouth, the mint on her tongue… anything to keep her mind off the mountain of muscle down the hall.

Chris had sworn that he’d heard someone slow to a stop outside his door. He could’ve sworn he saw the shadow of two thin, lovely legs and the sound of hurried breathing before a quick rustle of feet on the carpet moving quickly away.

Then again, he was positive he’d heard someone outside his door every 15 minutes for the last three hours. The first four times he’d gotten up off the bed and checked the peephole. The fifth time it had startled him because it was actually room service. The sixth time, and every time after that, he forced himself to stay sprawled on the bed munching french fries and trying to pay attention to Big Bang Theory reruns.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t focus on Leonard and Penny, and Sheldon. He couldn’t keep his attention on their chaos and silly drama. All he could think about was Y/N. She was in the same city once again and he was bound and determined to make tomorrow morning the most important date she’d ever been on. He yanked his phone out to look up restaurants when he saw a text.

Scott: you dead? i havent heard from you all week Chris: basically Chris: you’re never going to guess who’s down the hall right now Scott replied quickly: Cher Chris: lol nope… Scott: … Madonna? Chris: … Y/N

Chris’s phone rang immediately and he picked up quickly, “what the fuck, have you talked to her?”

“I’m taking her to breakfast tomorrow.”

“Where? You know it has to be perfect. Was she mad? How did she seem? Did she hug you? TELL ME EVERYTHING!”

Chris laughed, shifting off the bed to his laptop to continue looking for breakfast choices, “she was nervous but she didn’t turn me down on the spot.”

“Christopher Robert, I may have broken her ankle but if you break this girl’s heart one more time, I’m going to break your face. Do you know how many shitty stadium hot dogs I had to eat while you pined for her? Do you know what an idiot you were in DC? Do you know how much I’d love to throat punch you for taking so goddamn long to fix this?”

Chris laughed before sucking in a breath and letting the pause linger; he quietly said, “what if I can’t fix it? What if she doesn’t want me?”

“Then you close the door on it for good, but you’ve always wondered. After you were a complete fool in DC you’ve never dated the same way. You’ve held everyone at arm’s length.”

Chris was quiet, thinking about Scott’s answer. Scott continued to talk; he’d opened his own laptop and was Googling from his apartment in LA, offering suggestions and reading menus out loud while Chris did the same.

He didn’t hear the knock the first time over Scott’s ranting about not being invited to Prague and therefore not being there to help Chris win Y/N back.

At the sound of the second knock, Chris froze and went silent. “Shut up,” he told his brother, refusing to move from the desk… he refused to believe it was real. No one was knocking at 10 pm.

A heavy sigh on the other side of the door made Chris’s gaze yank quickly away from his computer screen and to the crack between the carpet and the door: a shadow.

The shadow shuffled and he heard a quiet, “this is stupid,” before it disappeared.

Chris launched out of the desk chair and across the room, dropping his phone on the desk with his brother’s shouting, “WHAT IS HAPPENING,” into the earpiece. Chris yanked open the door and charged into the hallway.

She was retreating to her room, clad in all pink, her hair piled on her head, and in just socks.

Chris had enough forethought to pull the latch through the door to keep it from locking behind him and he took three large steps to come face-to-face with Y/N.

“I couldn't wait until morning,” she said quietly, her hands twisting in front of her.

He grabbed her hands to still them, pulling them around his neck and dipped his lips to kiss her.